On the Edge of Wakefulness - Part 3 - Seeking Salvation
by Cabbie Esq
Summary: Todd Manning has spent a long time trying to ease his broken soul but his chosen salve has put him at death's door. Can he finally shed his addiction and live a better life for Téa Delgado and his family? AU story for adults.
1. Chapter 1

**On** **the** **Edge** **of** **Wakefulness** , **Part** **3** \- **Seeking** **Salvation**

 **Chapter 1**

 _I creep along the edge of a cliff to watch the twisting river beneath me. I'm dripping wet and shivering. Despite the chill, I want to be back inside the current. I miss the ease, the sleep … I miss the sameness and predictability of the river's singular path towards the falls, a path ending in deadly granite. There'd be nothing left of me I know, yet peace dwells in a violent end the way slick moss lies upon watchful river rocks. I teeter on the edge … I dream._

Friday night followed a Thursday which followed a Wednesday which followed a Tuesday … a seemingly endless number of days spent _clean,_ an unfamiliar state of mind.

So far, Todd followed through on his recovery plan which included meeting with Tim, attending narcotic-abuse group sessions, and hardest of all, having family therapy _things_ with Jedediah. The last couple of meetings with Jed had been tense, miserable ones because there was too much to say and Todd had lost the strength to say them.

He did have relief, though. Every afternoon he waited in line to get a dose of syrupy sweet methadone, then walked home along a carefully chosen route from the hospital to the Penthouse because the stroll took up time. He chose not to drive to take up time and to lessen the temptation of swinging down to Sixteenth Street.

Life had changed drastically.

At the moment, he lived as one part of a newly fitted trio - he, Téa and Jedediah - one always on the verge of breaking apart. People said it wasn't a good thing, but all other options felt like failure. Here, there was a sense of hope. So in that high-up place above Llanview, these three co-existed, passing each other in the hallways, on the stairs (like fish, they swim around each other, not touching, easing from room to room doing their individual business, sharing precious little of the truth), each clinging to schedules of intense activity, schedules which meant _everything_.

Jedediah's schedule was designed to avoid juvenile detention, Téa's assisted her in managing the tension of Todd and Jedediah as well as her own thoughts, and Todd had his to distract him from using, to keep him from peering into the pit of a hell he ached for, to keep him as connected to the other two members of the trio as possible.

Without the schedules, the three might drift away from each other, each might get lost to their rushing, watery weaknesses.

The city on this cold night lay before a sullen Todd who stared at the glow of urban engagement shining through the penthouse windows. He entertained images of families tucked in together, students partying, lovers dancing in noisy clubs, newspaper people working on the morning edition. _Normality._ The dark of the living room felt good though, the cigarette tasted good. He allowed himself to indulge in the intense loneliness. Nursed the dark pit in his belly … encouraged it.

Across the horizon, Todd thought he could make out the streetlamps of Sixteenth Street where an abandoned studio apartment sat empty, un-abused. He thought of Brandy and wondered what she was doing. The thought tempted him to call Viki, tempted him to feast on the scratchiness of Brandy's voice, on its unabashed promise of dope. Caught himself licking his lips unconsciously, a hand drifting to his crotch to grab himself, a wish to reach in behind the buttons and jerk off like some lunatic.

In that instant, he realized he _missed_ heroin hell. He laughed to himself bitterly. _Jesus fucking Christ._ He didn't miss the pain, the constant aching and sickness and the smashing into reality once the high faded. No, what he missed was a sense of belonging. There on Sixteenth Street lived a mad rightness in the wrong. He was part of something much bigger than just shooting up, than watching the whores do their thing, the pimps keeping them in line, the trash, the fear, the chase of all the different kinds of highs. There, he was a perfectly regular cog in a very _uncomplicated_ machine. There, things made sense.

Unlike here.

Try as he did to fit in at the Penthouse, he was an outsider. Certainly, he loved that Jedediah and Téa worked so well together, that they related to each other with their quirky senses of humor and similar tastes in film and food and emotionalism … he was happy for them.

But at their highest points of connection, there in front of him, when he could practically touch the strings that bound them, he felt most alone.

He did not relate to their ease of living without heroin, to their complete relaxation when they watched TV, to how they did not look at the clock and wonder how many hours since the last time they sucked down a dose of methadone, or how they did not constantly calculate the time since they last got high down to the minute. He did not connect to their grabbing a snack or reading a few pages in a book or chatting with a friend without visibly agonizing over the absence of the needle. He wished he could see a future and not cry over the prospect that he would never use dope again, that he would never again feel the blissful love of God as He wrapped His arms around Todd's very soul.

Nothing made sense in all of that. How did one live like this? He was so… very… alone in his longing for heroin hell.

Taking a puff of the cigarette, he watched the ashes sprinkle orange into the dark and hit his jeans. The burn was easy to imagine. Leaning back, he sucked the smoke in deep, letting it seep out his nose. Closing his eyes, he remembered the pain he'd once been in, not all that long ago. How easy to put the cigarette to delicate skin, to feel the sting, the burn, a way to remind himself he was still alive because at every other moment, he believed himself the walking _dead._ The insanity was easy to recall, too easy.

 _Is this being alive, Spirit? Trudging along dignified streets, moving through well-lit rooms, careful not to touch anyone. Don't want to bruise anyone, don't want to get bruised. Am I really alive? Or is it just a mimic of being alive? Why are you so quiet now?_

 _Because you need to hear your own voice._

 _How is that, oh Great Spirit, oh Great Spirit of Fucking Abandonment?_

 _My Angel, Little One so close to my heart, you dwelled in a dark place, you'd become helpless with a monster nipping at your heels. Then you came upon a little boy as fragile as a sparrow's egg, and you, after so much, you at last forgave that child, forgave him for being too small to defend himself. You finally understood that the damage brought on you was not your fault._

 _Did I?_

 _Yes, my Child, you did all that. Rejoice in the forgiveness. Listen to your own strength._

He rolled his eyes. Bullshit. He forgave nothing.

The clock read eleven and an old commercial used to say, he didn't know where his children were. Jedediah had gotten a reprieve for the night. Téa allowed him and Summer to spend time together over at Summer's parents' house. Todd had not met Summer yet because Jed consciously, admittedly, kept her away. He wasn't sure what he thought of the whole thing. None of his business, he guessed. They had to be back by midnight.

Starr was with Blair, where exactly he had no idea since he wasn't allowed any kind of contact with her. Blair made sure to wield Todd's drug use to her full advantage. Sam was trying to work some kind of deal, but it was all predicated on Todd's staying clean even above and beyond Blair's cooperation. And that was a problem. Staying clean. He was _physically clean_ at the moment. In his head… he was a fucking mess. He puffed again. Stared at the lit end some more. Resisted putting the thing on his tongue.

Action follows thoughts. THAT was the problem.

Only this morning Todd told Sam point-blank on the phone that he simply couldn't make that kind of guarantee. No, he couldn't promise that he would NOT tear down the elevator and fucking _run_ to Sixteenth Street for a hit. That if it came to it, _yeah, you know what_ , _I'd probably suck dick to get it._ He said that to Sam who stuttered and got all _come on you don't mean that._ And he nearly cried in that moment and rasped to him and the fates that it was the fucking truth, Sam, coach, dear old friend.

 _I'd do anything to get high again._

He grunted as if he'd been stabbed in the stomach. It ripped him up not to see Starr, not to hear her sweet voice, her laugh. What he'd give to be with her. Stopped himself mid-thought.

What he'd _give?_

He almost laughed. He apparently was NOT willing to make a promise to stay clean. Had to accept that he picked heroin over everything else, over everyone. Puffed absently … watched the smoldering stick in his hand. _Do it, do it, taste it. Feel it._ He put the lit end into his mouth and closed his lips around it and though he touched nothing, the idea soothed him just a little.

Téa watched television upstairs. He could hear snappy dialogue, the intermittent raised volume of commercials. Taking in another breath of nicotine (the right way), he mentally crossed out days on a calendar. He'd made it this far. Had to keep trudging ahead, one step after the other, one at a time, keep step-stepping,

 _Come on, one more day … that's the way, just one more … and another. And another._

A star shot through the sky and he followed it quick … gone in a flash. Wished to make it through another day and then worked on trying to absolve himself of his numerous crimes. You're forgiven, he repeated like a mantra. _You're forgiven._

In the end, he envisioned himself on the electric chair.

His mind drifted at that and he thought about the feel of killing someone. The fear. The determination. The urgency. How kind of fucking hilarious that the electric chair was not for Phillip's death - on _that_ he felt no guilt. None whatsoever. And _that_ he couldn't talk about. It was a secret. He wished he could though because he couldn't match up the two competing threads of thought: guilt for being abused … none for murder.

 _Dirt under my fingernails as I slip, as I scrape down the cliff. I see the water below, I feel the spray. I'm so … fucking … close._

"Try hard not to think of the past in any great detail, don't get stuck in the memories … let them go and work on your future," Tim had said. The addiction guy said the same thing.

And what exactly was it that he was recovering from again? Wasn't that what the heroin was all about? Peter was the sickness, the drugs were the cure. Now they're a problem. As Jedediah told him earlier, if only Todd had the guts to kill the addiction, he'd be able to do anything.

 _You're Superman! You tore that guy up, sent him to hell. You can kick this thing._

He pressed the cigarette into a plate on the floor where the remnants of a sandwich lay. Leaned back and eyed the city once more. Made a muscle with his arm, tightening the biceps… like a kid. _Superman_. Watched the lights of a barreling train along the far side of the city. Suddenly realized the television had been turned off. He assumed Téa had gone to sleep.

"What are you looking at so intently?"

Her voice poured down the steps like the sweetest curative water, almost baptismal in the way her voice spilled over him. He turned to her, his features softening. She moved closer, sat at the bottom step. Eye level.

"Things … lights … nothing," he said.

"How are you doing? You don't talk much."

He didn't answer, not sure what to say.

She sighed, "I know it's been tough. How long have you been here?"

"Four weeks, two days, ten and a half hours."

The timing was off. That was how long since he last got high, not since he'd shown up at the Penthouse door. He gazed at a silent flashing of red lights … cop cars perhaps headed to take someone down.

"Counting the minutes, huh?"

He shrugged.

Tiredly, she asked, "You seem… upset."

He sighed and stared hard at her. Then turned back to the Llanview night.

"I feel weird," he said, "I feel alone … I'm lonely in this house with my sorta-wife, with a son I want to know so badly but who scares the living shit outta me. I'm scared of him, of you, of everything. I want so many things and yet, I don't want anything other than heroin. I'd be happy to just get in bed, and never get up again. I'd be happy to walk out that front door and go right back to it. I wish I could get on a plane… as the song says… I wish..." He stopped talking, knowing he was about to say that he wished he could die. But something stopped him. He put a hand up to stop Téa from saying a word in response. "Don't answer me, Delgado, I'm just talking."

Téa glanced through the windows at the few stars visible. She'd moved off the stairs. She stood near enough to him to smell the cigarettes. She worried about him. None of what he said surprised her. His urgency did though, his rattling off pretty deep truths did. After some moments, she asked …

"What would you like me to do?"

He shrugged, "Not your problem."

"I'm not saying it is but maybe there's something that will make you feel more comfortable. Nothing wrong with that. You want to see Viki? You want me to help get Blair to cooperate in getting Starr over here? Or maybe see-"

Quick as a flash, he grabbed Téa's wrist, holding it tightly, knowing he shocked her. Her features immediately tensed, her voice dropped and she said, "What are you doing?"

An ache shot upwards inside of him. He knew he should be better behaved. He knew that. _This_ _ain't nothin'._ Shit could get a lot worse to be honest. Thank god for his _restraint._

"Todd," she whispered. The tension was high and she shut her eyes a moment. He squeezed tightly and she twisted in his grip a little. When she looked at him again she saw sadness instead of upset. He tugged until she stood right next to him, staring downwards into his searching eyes.

"I wanna feel you," he said softly, barely audible. "I want to be with you."

"Why? Because Brandy's not around?"

He didn't flinch, didn't react. "No … does there have to be a reason?"

"Yes. With me … and you … there has to be a reason."

"Because I want to be close to you. I want to know you."

"Know …?"

Silence had never been so loud as it was at this very moment, loud to the point of distraction. There was so much that had to be laid out, worked through, dealt with, managed, organized, yelled, screamed, cried … so much to be done … so much healing that needed to be accomplished. He stood up, not letting her wrist go and placed his free hand behind her head, tugging ever so gently, repeating the words in a whisper, "I want to know you."

Emotion filled Téa and, GOD, she wanted to spring from his grasp like a bird, wanted to fly away from him because that heat he gave off, that energy, trapped her, made her lose perspective, logic, common sense. She huffed, caught in his gaze. Jesus she could give in so easily. She could get on her knees and tear open his buttons. She could lay back or get on top and make love with him … to him… to assure him … to soothe him… she could love him. God, it would be so easy.

Except suddenly, the scent of lavender hit her.

That lovely comforting relaxing scent. She groaned beneath her breath, her head down. Lavender. Lavender _soap_. Soap she kept in her bathroom. And in _that_ , she realized that he'd showered in her bathroom. He'd gone in uninvited, god damn it. His warm lips touched her forehead… she could feel his hand pressing on her lower back now, the barest moan coming from him…

She wrenched herself away from him, "Stop it!"

He let go of her as if she were on fire. "What, what is it?" he asked, impatience tinged with anger in his voice. They both stood there, eyes hard on each other, inches away.

"Has anything really changed? REALLY?"

"Oh god … from _when_?"

"From before … from … always? I can smell my soap on you. You showered in my bathroom, Todd. You were in my room without asking permission." She breathed in tiredly, glancing away, then not. "You're violating space. You promised you wouldn't. Damn it."

She hoped she was wrong. She hoped he'd get hopping mad and explain that the hospital soap was lavender. Or maybe that the housekeeper had just put the lavender soap in his bathroom. Or that he went and bought the same stuff and she was mad as a hatter for even thinking he'd violate her rules.

But no.

He eyed her and then sat back in the chair in a huff. Stared outside the window and lit up another cigarette. Inhaled slowly and let the smoke out with equal deliberation. "Yeah," he grumbled. "I did exactly that. So what now? You gonna claim 'rape of your soap privacy'? Call my doctors? Kick me out of my own fuckin' house?"

This hurt like hell.

"You want me to?"

He said nothing for some moments, focusing on the smoke snaking upwards. He shook his head, "No."

She plopped back down on the stairs. Watching him. "You promised," she repeated.

"I know I did. I made a lotta promises."

"Why the intrusion then? You knew how important that was to me."

"What do you think?"

She shook her head, shrugged.

He looked at her, his expression saying, _really_?

Finally she ventured a guess and said in a soft voice, "You wanted to be near me."

"Give the lady a fuckin' prize."

The dark didn't provide enough cover to the hurt both felt. Him for being so isolated, her for losing trust. It seemed insurmountable, unsolvable. Téa though felt more worry than woundedness. He was deteriorating. This was a start of him going back to old habits and that included the streets. And this was something very much out of her control. She reached to him, but pulled back. Watched his cigarette as he inhaled and exhaled.

"I'm sorry we can't be closer," Téa said after some time. "I wish I had that to give you. Maybe it would make this period of time go easier."

"Do you even love me anymore?"

Téa was ready to say the words that always came so easy to her. The words readied themselves to jump out and wrap around Todd's damaged ego, around that shattered heart of his, words eager to act as a bandage against a torn artery. So ready to do the usual.

"I don't know what I feel," Téa answered. "Especially now. You know that intrusion… is more than just an intrusion."

He was quiet, a slight nod as he studied his nails. As he puffed on the cigarette. His eyes stung with surprising tears. God, he wanted the burn of the cigarette. It would break the pain in his heart.

"Todd, you're going through a lot now … so many wounds … for both of us. I find the word, 'love' to be a rather indefinable thing these days. Sort of like attempting to form water into a shape. The definition, the meaning, the usefulness of it, just slips through my fingers. The word, love, slips through, too. I love you in that larger, wanting-you-to-be-safe way."

He chuckled shortly, angrily.

"What?"

"'Love' wasn't complicated for you before. You had no trouble telling me you loved me when I was _sick_. But now … things are looking better … and you … can't tell me you love me?"

"That's what I mean. Are things better? It's complicated now that you're here. It's a reality I am strangely unprepared for. I find that I am thinking constantly of what's right, what good, what's healthy, what's truthful. I worry about everything around you, so afraid that I'll push you back onto the streets or that something will frighten you or upset you or trigger you. And mostly, I don't want to insult you by tossing around what is perhaps the most important word in the human language. I don't want to do that. I want to mean it. I want it to have meaning to _you_. I want you to feel it before I ever say it again."

Todd stamped out the cigarette and offered one to Téa but she declined. He tossed the pack on the floor, not taking up another one, but wanting to. A cold wave of emptiness came over him so powerfully that tears threatened to break through again. She was right, there was a lot to be done before he could … before they could …

He felt her nearer to him. She was standing and looking down at him. "You make me weak," she said. He tentatively reached for her hand and looked up at her. Barely touching her fingers.

"I'm sorry I went in your room without asking," he said quietly. "It was a stupid compulsive thing."

He had a loose hold on her fingers. Téa sighed and admittedly felt his sincerity. She then indulged in that weakness of hers and sat carefully on his lap, feeling him adjust his position so she could be more comfortable. He cradled her, like a child. He smiled … ever so slightly. It was a sweet look she wasn't sure she'd ever seen before. Téa shook her head in mild reproach of both herself and him.

"I'm sorry you hurt so much," she offered tenderly. "And I know that by not letting you in my bed… that you might … go elsewhere."

He said nothing. So many promises he'd made, so few he believed in. He wanted to be better though, to do more than fake control over things. He wished so bad for it. He kept the wishes close by in the hope to be better. Except they snapped at him like mad dogs. Promises to stay clean, to stay busy, to be wholesome and reflective, to stay on his medications, to engage in dialog with his loved ones, to engage in healthy sexual activities, to express himself in safe environments, to stay safe, blah blah blah. He didn't trust a single one of them. He didn't know he'd abide by any.

Téa studied his face as he looked downward, clearly thinking on things. She touched his cheek and he looked at her once more.

"Damn you for not denying it," she said. "I think I prefer your days of celibacy."

He dismissed her curse, shrugged slightly, still silent.

"You think about her, don't you?" she then asked.

"Brandy?"

"Yes."

"Yeah. Not in a … _complex_ manner."

"Complex?"

"Love is complex, you said?"

"You love her. Don't deny it."

"Love is hard to define," he snapped, mimicking her earlier speech, an edge of mockery there. "Can we not talk about her?" He said the last words softly, regretfully.

"When can we talk about her?"

He looked terribly sad all of a sudden. "When heroin isn't such a powerful force in my life." His voice cracked and he turned away, shamed it seemed.

She cupped his cheeks and made him look at her. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't know, Téa…"

"I wish I could know more. I don't like you hiding from me. If we're to have any kind of future, I want to know about you. Your heart."

"And what if I …" His eyes watered now and Téa caressed his face, motherly. "What if I break my promises to keep away … what if I fall again?"

"I'll do my best. I'll give what I can … I will try my best to be a strength to you. But …"

He put his fingers to her lips and made a motion with his head. "Don't say more. I get it."

The quiet overtook them again. And Téa rested her head against his shoulder. Her hands were in her lap. He was doing the holding. She heard him softly whispering, "I'm sorry … I'm so sorry." She wasn't sure if he even meant for her to hear him or who he meant it for. She hoped he was offering apologies to himself because after all was said and done, it was he who perhaps was the person he inevitably hurt the most.

"I want to feel you, Téa," he said quietly. "I want to be inside of you. I want that. I only want that with you."

Gazing back at him, she ran a thumb across the soft skin beneath his eyes and smiled slightly. "There was a time when I'd have died for you say that to me."

He raised his brows and sighed. "I know. I wish I could have said it to you. Maybe if I had-"

"That would have meant a whole different history, Todd."

"I suppose."

"I'm proud of you coming here, you know. Things are hard with Jed. _Complex._ I see you taking your meds right on time, see you reading, looking at the mail from the Sun, talking to Briggs … it's like watching a person venture into a cold lake. Tip toes. You need to be so careful, so … careful."

He swallowed and she saw two tears slip out, and … she kissed them, wrapping her arms around him.

He hugged her back at that, burying his face against her shoulder. They both held each other, grasping onto each other. Being as close as they'd been in a long time. Maybe ever. And some of the pain drifted away, sensations of warmth, of love, taking its place. Todd lifted his head, looking at her. Touched her lips with his. A delicate cautious kiss. Téa pulled away gently, dropped her head.

"I love you," he said. "I don't know the definition you're looking for. But I know that I love you. I may not-" He stopped. Chewed his lip a moment. Shook his head. "Téa, I don't know that I feel love in the same way other people do, like deep inside of me, like in a way that would stop me from doing things… or make me do things… but… you mean everything to me. I look for you, all the time. In your room, in mine, in the fucking kitchen, by the window… where is she, I think. You're on my mind always. Even when I was high and drifting in the Sixteenth Street sea, I would think about you. Téa, more than anything, I wish I could live my promises… for you. Even if it never happens, even if I die doing this fucking drug, please, please know…you are still with me."

Téa glanced away … he touched her cheek to get her to look at him. She was shaking.

"I know you're fragile," he said. "I know you're expecting to get hurt again. You talk about it and you try to sound distant, like you're okay, like you'll just move on. I know differently though. I know you're scared as hell of the pain you're gonna feel."

She swallowed a lump in her throat … tried to not become weak at the sound of the truth enmeshed in his voice. And of all the voices in the world, when he shared his truth, it ran through her with the force of a lethal sword.

"I never _want_ to hurt you," he continued, "but I do anyway. It's like waking up in a strange bed, covered with blood, a body next to you. I remember the killing … but not why it happened, don't know how it started … never knew how to stop it." Like she had done, he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

She said nothing, laying her head back onto his shoulder, feeling him caress her hair this time.

"You may not believe it, but I do have a little hope."

"Really?" She said this softly, barely making a sound.

"Yup. I see us," he went on, "together in a country house … big, huge … lots of rooms … a dog … one of those annoying yappy things … that bites."

"You would want a dog that bites," she chuckled sadly.

"What fun is a dog that doesn't?"

She laughed quietly.

"I see a bird, too. Gotta have a bird."

Téa laughed again, the sound muffled because she kept her place right on him. "He won't talk, will he?"

"Téa, what fun is a bird that doesn't talk?"

They both laughed softly and Todd said, "You gotta admit, you sorta miss Moose."

"I don't miss Moose … don't miss him at all."

"Oh you're so heartless."

Téa laughed again, "Tell me more about what you want. More about that country house. It sounds so … nice."

He grew serious, "Did I mention all the rooms?"

"Yes."

"And windows, a lot of windows so we can see outside … from any place, anywhere. And you know what we'll see?"

"Tell me."

"The sun … the moon … a forest-worth a'trees. Snow on a field instead of shoved up in an alley. Snowmen on a hill, a tree with flowers in the middle of winter … a kid even. Maybe ten of 'em …"

"Ten kids? So who's gonna give you the ten, I'm only good for … two."

"That leaves …"

"Eight."

"Right … eight … maybe the neighbors will kick in."

She giggled in spite of herself, actually treasuring the moment of pure silliness. "Neighbors, huh?"

He chuckled with Téa, adding more details to all the neighbors he and Téa would encounter in their new life together. And soon the fantasy slowed down, and the room quieted again, the two in each other's arms. He didn't know why, but tears welled again, the real dream seeming so far away.

"We'd be happy, I think," Téa added softly, touching his chin, smoothing his goatee.

"Yeah, it'd be really peaceful."

"What's 'peace' like for you? How do you see it, what does it feel like?"

"Quiet, smooth … like walking in a stream barefoot in the middle of summer. Not wanting anything other than maybe just regular sort of stuff … a beer and a burger … or … um… sex … just for sex … just to get some love and give some back … for fun, you know? Peace is … simplicity."

He closed his eyes and moved against Téa's warm hand on cheek.

"One day," she promised.

"I'm sorry to be so fucked up."

"Shhhh … and Todd … you're loved. By me. Okay?"

After a moment or two, he then said. "Let me make you feel good … not for me … just you."

"This feels good, THIS does. I don't need sex, an orgasm. I can do that myself."

"I know you think about it though. You think because I was with Brandy, but you and I hadn't …"

"What are you looking for? To feel alive? Is it another high? Or is it control? Because something tells me this isn't about… love."

"None of that … I think … you don't understand … you're putting up with me … and if something happens…"

"What could happen?" He tried to look away and she stopped him, "What could happen, Todd?"

He'd already said it but didn't use the technical terminology and her response had been so distant and by-the-book he wasn't sure she really understood. Found himself whispering the word though because to say it aloud was too painful, too real.

"Relapse. That's what they call it. Falling off the wagon … fucking up."

Téa rubbed her chest, as if she just breathed in shards of glass.

"I want to love you at least one time, Téa. I want to be with you … I want that so bad because each moment that passes feels like a moment gone, an opportunity gone … one step closer to falling off the fuckin' face of the earth."

"Why are you talking like this? Give it time … we have time… you're doing well."

He shook his head at her, a no … or a non-answer.

"Todd—"

"I get scared is all. Just get really scared. You don't know..."

Téa hugged him tightly, desperately, because he was scaring _her_ , and he hugged her back equally as strong … afraid to stop the embrace because … well, all at once, his barely-held together resistance seemed to have disappeared … all this talking, all this sharing … Téa's love … god, while she couldn't say it exactly, he did feel it, it did seem real and true, and it had sort of brought him to his knees.

Because… he'd run if she let go, if he let go of her. One minute alone and he would get up, walk out the door, and run to the powdery Princess of Peace. He'd steal Brandy away from Viki … he'd fuck everything up. He missed the heroin more than he thought possible.

"Don't let go, Delgado."

 **To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

**On** **the** **Edge** **of** **Wakefulness** , **Part** **3**

 **Chapter 2**

Jedediah flipped on the light above the stove in the Penthouse kitchen and opened the refrigerator to grab a Coke and the orange juice jug. Handed Summer the juice. She grinned at him, wagging her brows playfully, her bright red hair a little more wild than normal. Too much _play_ in her parents' car downstairs in the parking garage _._ They'd spent the evening under the watchful eyes of her parents but when she drove him home, well … they'd made up for lost time.

She kissed him as he shut the fridge … said, "So that was your father, huh?" She began hunting through the cupboards for a glass. Found one.

"Yeah."

Summer poured the juice, then raised her glass in a casual cheer. Except Jed didn't respond, just popping open the can and chugging it.

"Couldn't get a good look at him," Summer said, "too dark and... he was busy."

Jed's tone iced up even further, "Yeah."

The two kids had snuck into the Penthouse because they were late, opening the door as quietly as they could, taking cautious steps. No way to lie about blowing the midnight curfew. They both hoped Todd and Téa were sleeping and at first, thought they'd made it. However, after a moment of adjusting to the darkness, they both realized Todd and Téa were smack in front of the large windows in a sofa-chair, hugging, and what's more, it looked as if the hugs were interrupted by a couple of heated kisses.

Bottom line, they were completely enveloped in each other. Something sort of snapped inside Jedediah, all sorts of bells and whistles going off. He'd yanked Summer into the kitchen. He himself didn't understand his reaction. All he knew was that he hated what he'd seen.

Studying him closely, she asked, "You okay?" Put her glass down.

He shrugged, running his finger around the rim of the soda can repeatedly, the moisture gathering in elongated beads. There'd been this one night when he and some friends had smoked weed using a bent coke can. The glass pipe they had been using broke, an accidental crushing. Jed had rolled over it in his sleeping bag while reaching for a bag of chips. So they turned to the infamous _Coke can._ They were desperate and stoned and laughing their asses off. The night air had been intoxicating on that moonless night, stars twinkling. Just him and his buddies. Felt like a century ago.

"Jed? What's wrong?" Summer started to touch him, but he pulled away. She got onto a stool, placing her elbows on the countertop, waiting him out.

After a while, his voice tight with tension, he said, "It's weird to see him with Téa that way."

"What do you mean? They're married."

"I just feel fuckin' weird."

"Speak, Jed. Come on …"

"It's hard to explain, okay?"

"Try me."

He hopped up onto the stool next to Summer, focused on the tiles, gritting his teeth. God, he was so goddamn pissed off and he was finding it awfully hard to keep cool. He scratched his neck roughly, snarling, "You know what? He's gonna let Téa down hard and after all she's done for him … and me … it's not right."

Summer nodded empathetically. There were few moments when Jedediah revealed his youth to her and this was one of them. Even though they were only two years apart, her blackish viewpoint aged her, making her feel like an old woman. In her opinion, people fucked each other over in the end. That was life. To her, there was no question that his dad was going to hurt Téa, not with his history. This she knew. Damnation - condemnation - a sure thing. So why sweat it?

"Have you told him how scared you are … for Téa?"

"I'm not scared, Summer … I'm fuckin' pissed off."

"You're scared. Don't bullshit me."

"Not scared."

"You need to talk to him."

"What … and give him ideas? Forget it. He'll just think I'm talking shit anyway and I don't want him thinking it's about me or anything. I was there, you know, with him, in that apartment… he's a mess. But Téa? She seems to really think he's staying put. That he's really gonna do this thing."

"Well, it's been a good number of weeks now. Maybe he IS really going to do this thing."

He wasn't listening, though, lost in his conjectures. "She's all … hugging him like that. She probably doesn't know that he's … you know … so uh… _risky_."

"Jed, I'm sure she knows. She's a big girl."

"Yeah, I guess … but all this past week, it's like he's hiding something."

"What do you mean?"

"He won't look at me, he hardly talks. I told him he was going to get through this, you know? Supporting him and all that? I told him I believed in him and he just fuckin' blew me off."

Summer glanced away, sounding flippant, "I'm sure he's going through a lot." Jed hopped off the stool and got closer to her.

"See? You don't sound convinced either."

Grabbing his hand in hers, she said, "Look, baby, he's a drug addict. What more is there to say? I hate to see you … so disappointed."

His emotions swung back in response to her, his features creasing with concern. He turned to his Coke can again. He _was_ disappointed and nothing had even happened yet.

She tried more assurance. "Téa's pretty level-headed though … isn't she?"

"Yeah … true. I'm sure she knows what she's doing. She's not going to just fall for him … she must _know_ he's gonna stick this out. She wouldn't just jump unless she knew what the hell she was doing."

 _Jumping_ … Jedediah looked at Summer, knowing she didn't understand what he'd just said. _Jumping_ , the way Michelle had jumped. The way he'd already lost his real mother. He didn't want to lose Téa that way. But that was stupid — Téa wasn't depressive. Though neither was his mom. He bit his lip to keep a sudden swell of hurt down. Summer put her arms around him, whispered, "She knows what she's doing."

He sighed, burying himself in her touch.

"Look, bottom line, trust your instincts. If you don't like what they're doing, there's good reason for you to feel that way. Talk to them. If you think Téa has it under control, trust that."

He straightened up, serious, angry again, "So what the hell do I do when I'm thinking both?"

"Like I said, talk to them."

He brooded, quiet.

She then had some reality for him. "Babe, there is something you really need to get on board with."

"What?"

She sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "Like I said, he's a drug addict. He IS gonna mess this up. HUGELY. Once on dope, always on dope. They relapse countless times before getting clean. That is, IF they don't die first. And honey, there are some that never off the shit. Like, they LIVE that way. And that means you gotta just worry about you."

"I know, I know…"

"You're not acting like you know."

"I know that too."

She smiled, caressing his hand, his cheeks, "I love you so much … and I love that you want the world for that daddy of yours … and Téa. But you can't fix him."

He drank more of his soda, eyes downcast.

"You still feel weird?"

"Yeah, I do."

She shook her head, grinning a little. He looked at her pretty eyes at that, looked at her lips so full and pinkish, as relieving as a moonless night. Summer kissed him, her tongue touching his, the taste of orange … her hands running through his hair and in one swift, getting-pretty-skilled-at-this move, he twisted her around, pressing her up against the refrigerator door. He ground his hips into her, his youthful body shivering with too much emotion … anger … sadness … love … all of it.

Suddenly, Todd's voice bounced across the kitchen, "Holy shit..."

Summer and Jedediah jumped and turned around in shock, Todd looking away, his hand up as if he didn't want to see them … kidding around, just a throw-away joke, "Jed … could warn your old man, you know."

The nerve of it. Jedediah didn't hear the humor, didn't find the mockery of Summer _funny,_ and before he could stop himself, just as Téa walked in, he totally lost his mind…

"Well you sure as hell didn't warn _me_ when you let Brandy suck your dick or jerk you off, didja?!"

Téa tried to interrupt, "Jed!" but there wasn't any stopping him.

"Or when you shot up dope, not giving the smallest fuck that I was in right in front of you! Didn't give ME any warning, didja?!"

To his own surprise, a whole lotta anger started flying out. He approached Todd, threateningly … "Didn't give a damn about me there … didn't care not one fuckin' bit." Inches from Todd who stood stoic, listening to Jed finally spit out, "You fuckin' loser. Gonna do Téa now? Huh? Gonna fuck her the way you fucked Brandy, gonna get her to occupy you while you wait to relapse?!"

"Shut up, Jed," Todd finally said.

Téa attempted again to bring about some calm. This was way out of hand, like a flash fire. Speaking to Jed, she said, "Okay, _amor_ , back off, all right? This can wait until morning. We'll talk about everything. It's late and Summer needs to get home. We'll talk in the morning. First thing."

"No, I'm not gonna back off. You DO know that he's been screwing a HOOKER? A WHORE? Right? Tell me you know that? She sucks his DICK!"

Summer's face spoke volumes as to what expression must have been on Todd's face and Téa immediately put her hand on Todd's arm to control him, to calm him.

But Jedediah saw the move and could only spit more venom right at his Angel Daddy. "What are you gonna do," he said, "hit me?"

"I might. Might have to slap the shit out of you for talking like this around Téa."

"Go ahead and TRY, asshole. Just fuckin' TRY."

Téa held onto Todd though and pressed her other hand on Jed, feeling the strength of both men. "Stop it, please … what the hell?!"

Todd backed off at the feel of Téa's body moving in front of him. Realized he was breathing hard and shaking, fighting a massive surge of hate at his own kid. Kept his eyes on Téa because he was really fuckin' close here.

Jed though wouldn't let up. "You disgust me. I can't even BELIEVE you'd have the NERVE to kiss Téa with THAT mouth ... make love to her with that drug running through you ... and into HER! That's DISGUSTING ... and so are YOU!"

Todd left Téa now and shouted, "It's none of your business what I do … or what Téa does!"

"You selfish fucker! Do you even CARE what happens to her? What sorta disease you could give her?!"

"Jed! You're jumping the gun," Téa said. "Everyone needs to cool off and then we'll discuss this!"

Jed looked at her, "Maybe you don't care, but I do!" Jedediah walked over to his backpack and unzipped it to the curiosity of everyone. "Here, here …" Pulled out something and Todd cringed when he saw what Jedediah held in his hand: several packages of condoms.

"Here _daddy_ , use these. Here."

He started flinging them at Todd, one at a time, Todd's arm up trying to deflect them. The single packages hit Todd in the chest, his belly, his head. He stared coldly, the items having fallen around him.

Summer had since grabbed Jedediah around his stomach, holding onto him tightly, "Stop, babe … stop it."

"Use them, asshole. Least you could do for your _wife_."

Jedediah couldn't stop the pain from coming, edging away from Summer. He didn't know where it came from. It just poured out like the worst kinda sick. Threw the last of the condoms at Téa.

"Maybe you don't give a shit, either. Maybe he _should_ have fucked you."

That ended things. Todd lunged at him now, tearing right through Téa's hold on him like she was nothing, both women gasping and Jed taking two steps back. Todd had Jed in his hands, gripping the front of his hoodie. He was shaking and breathing through his nose like a bull. Jedediah stared right back, caught, a rat in a tiger's mouth. Without a doubt in his head, he knew his father had the strength and the will… to kill him.

Instead, Todd let go and swung a fist hard at the refrigerator door, leaving a massive dent in it.

"Get the fuck outta here!" he yelled at Jed, hair hanging in his face, spit on his lips, his whole body trembling with restrained rage. "Get out! GET OUT BEFORE I FUCKIN' TEAR YOU TO PIECES, YOU LITTLE SHIT! GET OUT! GET OUT!" He punched the fridge again and again.

And Jed, still a stubborn kid, had to yell back, "Fuck you!" knowing it sounded childish and wimpy. He ran out of the kitchen, up the stairs, Summer chasing him, and the tears started coming and he wiped his face roughly. What had hurt him, he couldn't say. All he knew was that Todd had triggered something deep and he lost it. _Fucking bastard, fucking, fucking bastard …_ step after step he took going to his room.

Todd stood with his head on the fridge and his hands gripping the sides and he couldn't stop shaking, insane with a kind of anger he usually reserved for people who got in his way, not for those he loved. He could have kept on screaming, he could have done exactly what he said, still felt it, still wanted to strangle that fuck, wanted to rip his throat out, rip through his chest and guts and feel blood… _oh my fucking god_ … He couldn't talk, couldn't calm down. If anyone touched him, they'd die. And in his head there was nobody near he would spare because he had nobody in this world that gave two shits about him, about him ever being born, and the world was damned sure gonna kill HIM. Gonna make sure he had nothing 'til the day it fucking ended him. And he heard Téa's voice, heard her trying to break through and gripped the fridge even harder because Jesus fucking Christ she had no idea what he was capable of, what he wanted to do to his own kid.

"GO AWAY! GO AWAY! Oh my god go away!"

Téa then said, her voice calm, "Todd… take a breath, calm down. He's going through a lot too."

He looked at her after a minute. And turned. Headed out of the kitchen. Towards the front door.

"Todd, no, no, you stay here. You need to stay!"

Solid, seething footsteps, the front door opened … and he was gone.

* * *

Todd tried to see straight but couldn't. Tried not to feel the level of hate he was feeling. He was still shaking. Nearly flattened that fuckin' kid over all those words. The snow started up again and it was a tough thing walking through it, especially without a coat.

"Fuck YOU, you little shit," he groaned.

He dug around his pockets and felt cash and then flagged down a slow-driving taxi. Once in, he gave the address of Viki's house.

He didn't want to see Viki, though. Just needed, just wanted, to make sure Brandy was okay. He dug around in his pockets again for a number … he had the number of a counselor who sort of acted like a sponsor. If he wanted to use, he was supposed to call him. Name was Derrick or something. Nope. Didn't have the card. Pockets empty. Just had cash. And he knew why the hell he carried cash. No denying his mal-intent.

He touched the cold car window and took some breaths. He'd walked too far in the bad weather and was soaking wet. He tried to block out Jed's hatred. God, Jed hated him so much. He figured it was two shakes less than he hated Peter.

And truth was… it was justified. Rightful, indignation. There was nothing that Jed said that wasn't true, that wasn't a good goddamn reason to hate him. He was thoughtless in that apartment, driven entirely by a need to get high, to shut down the ghosts and memories that were a jack-hammer in his brain. A sob gripped him and he smashed a hand on his mouth to stop the noise. God, he hurt.

Llanfair had come quickly. Todd paid the driver and got out of the car. Stomped across the snow-covered driveway, Jed's words continuing to echo in his head, pounding into him. He thought his head would burst … brain matter and blood and bone would splatter everywhere. _Rightful_. Jed had him dead to rights, as they say. Had Téa been less protective, more carefree, Todd would have had sex with her. Damn straight it would have been unsafe. While he had himself tested for diseases, he was told to not engage in unprotected sex for at least a year. To be sure. But the thought never even entered his mind. Not even once.

So … Todd ought to stick with his own kind, right? The love he wanted to give and wanted back … well, it wasn't for him. Better to roll around in the sewer. Hopeless, yeah? No future, right? And who else feels the same? You know who.

 _That's right, Son. Come to hell, come join me. You belong here because you're nothing but a bastard who deserves the fire. Like me._

Inner voices too loud, and he welcomed them in.

 _Might have to slap the shit out of you for talking to me that way!_

He breathed in the cold air and eyed the windows, trying to determine which one was Brandy's. He had no idea where Viki put her and concentrated on their conversations from when he went after Phillip. What was it that Brandy had loved about her room here? Something about purple velvet pillows … where was that room? Good, or was it bad, luck shined on him, and he saw a light. Heard a window burst open …

 _Salvation_ , _condemnation, punishment._

"Hey, baby, what you doin' out there?"

"Brandy," he huffed.

It was as if someone had shot him up with dope right then and there. He had to get to her. The need was beyond animal and he was certain she was carrying. He didn't know why, but he just knew she had something for him. He'd fuck her and get high or get high and then fuck her. And yeah, things would be all better then, he'd be back in hell, right where he belonged.

Yeah … yeah… would that be enough for you, Jed? Would that be enough blood? 'Cause lord knows Phillip's blood wasn't enough to make up for Michelle. Jed most likely, really wanted _Todd's_ blood.

There was a trellis, firm and secure against the wall, and he started climbing. Up … up … her long black hair was hanging out of the window and he thought of Rapunzel and kept climbing, his hands getting pricked by the thorns of the dry vines. Bleeding maybe, he didn't care, he was so close to her. So close to … destiny?

Her voice carried over, "Hey there, baby, whatcha doin'?" She reached a hand to him and he looked at her, looked at her inviting brown eyes, watched her mouth curve into a smile, saying the words he wanted to hear, "I love you, baby … you want something from me? I got something, heaven is right here… right here …"

He glanced down, not even sure she'd really said those things, and saw that he was a good number of feet up. His muscles shook from cold, from fear, from stress, and he hugged the trellis, resting his head against the icy metal. Wondered what the hell he was doing.

Funny, Bo's voice broke through, "Todd … drop the gun." Crystal. He remembered that time he'd been hanging on for his life on a mountain cliff, trying to make an impossible decision. Take the right step, take the wrong one. Which would it be?

"Come on, come on in."

"I can't move."

"You ain't gonna fall. I won't let you. Come on, hold my hand."

Turning up to her, "I'll hurt you, Brandy. I always do … it's what I want."

"You won't hurt me, you won't hurt yourself. Ain't nothin' can hurt us."

"Oh god … I'm not gonna make it."

A wind whipped up and blew icily against the two. Brandy ducked her head and said, "Baby, come on."

Next thing he knew, he tumbled into her room, a warmish purple one, the room she'd fallen in love with. Brandy, wearing a simple cotton nightgown, shoeless, dragged the large comforter off the bed and wrapped him up. He sat shivering wet against the wall as she shut the window, plopping down on the floor in front of him, her eyes bright with sweetness.

Biting her lip to control her smile, she laughed, "Oh baby, I can't believe you're here. What's going on?"

Todd just shook his head. She caressed his face and then climbed over the thick comforter to get at him. She got under the cover, straddling him, and touched him, held him.

"I'm dying," he said as he struggled not to cry.

"No, you ain't. You just in the middle place where it's too far to turn back but such a long way in front of you. Where your mind kicks in … and your heart stops … 'cause it wants to do the wrong thing 'cept, your head's gotten strong and the two is pulling so hard."

"When'd you get so smart?" Todd grumbled.

"I ain't. I just know more than before."

She moved off him, sitting next to him, a single lamp brightening the room with a clean white light. There were pretty things on the dresser, including the onyx angel that she'd once found in the trash, that had found its way back to her. Turning to him, noticing Todd studying her possessions, she said, "Wait … I got something to show you."

Smiling as she stood, she backed up … sort of skipped over to the night stand and fumbled with something there.

"I think you'll like this."

She clicked off the main light and it was dark for a moment or two. Then another click, and the room lit up with rotating reds, blues, purples, blacks. A small bulb beneath a turning tiffany shade offered a different sort of miracle.

Todd laughed softly. "Oh god, it's psychedelic."

"Yes it is! That's it exactly!"

She planted herself next to him under the cover and he shook his head at the mess of color all over the room.

"Ain't it pretty?"

"You're nuts. My life is blowing up as usual and you're hooked on … color."

She buried her face in his shoulder, shaking her own head at him. "It's happiness. You just don't recognize it."

"So this is your answer?"

"Baby … you ain't dying."

They both heard a knock at the door along with Viki's voice, "Todd?"

Sighing, he knocked his head back against the wall, "Yeah … I'm here. Your roses probably won't recover though."

The door opened and she stepped inside, looking around immediately at the lights. She smiled warmly at Brandy, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am. He's being right respectful. He just having a hard night."

"I know, I just talked to Téa. Todd, you can sleep downstairs. You can't stay in this room. I'm responsible for Brandy. She's doing very well, as I told you last week."

"Don't worry, I won't ruin her."

Viki frowned at him, a touch of sadness there.

"How's Jed," he asked. "Tea?"

"Mostly worried about you. They'll be relieved you're here."

"I just want to talk to Brandy a bit, okay?"

"Sure. I'll be downstairs in the living room. You let me know if you're going to be using the downstairs guest room." Folding her arms tightly, her long robe dragging on the ground, Viki left, leaving the door open. Trying to make the room safe, safer.

"I had plans, you know," he said after a bit. "What I was going to do when I got to you."

Brandy nodded, focusing on the lights. "I had plans, too," she said. "The bad life is so close. One push and we'll be there. One day at a time, baby. That's how we making it."

"Jed hates me. I can't stand it."

"He hurts, like you. You gotta be patient. Go home. Make your amends."

Todd looked over at her, "You're really okay, aren't you?"

She looked at him, "Every night I lay myself down in this big bed and I remember the dirty floors I slept on when I was young. I remember the beds I was laid in by all those people. I remember our bed … you and me … 'bout how you was the first person who looked at me like I was something real. Not even Paulie looks at me that way. And I remember how I would lay my life down for you. And then I take a breath and think of all those breaths you didn't want … and I think about you breathing now with your wife and your boy in the same place … and I can sleep. I have something special … myself. I have my two feet that I stand on, now. It's slow … I ain't walking fast … but I'm gettin' there. There ain't nothin' more than I want but to know that you're looking across at me and we both gettin' there. Know what I mean?"

He shrugged and inched down so he could lay his head on her shoulder, "I guess."

"I think that blue is my favorite color."

"More than purple?"

"Yup. It's so much like the sky. Full of … po-tential."

They watched the lights a long while.

"I want you to know something'," she said softly.

"What?"

"There ain't nobody in this world that I wanna face the bad life with but you. If you goin' down there, goin' back to Sixteenth… I be right there with you. I don' want you to ever think you alone in that place."

He sat up a little, turning to her. "Brandy…"

"I may know more than before, I may be glad that you is gettin' better. But I will say it over and over. I will die with you. I will go to hell with you. If that's what you want."

There wasn't anything to say.

# # #

He knocked on the door at four in the morning, having been taken back to the Penthouse by a taxi. He had to knock because he left without his key. Téa answered and looked him up and down. Trying to determine his condition. She narrowed her eyes, "Are you high?"

"No."

"Are you coming here from her bed?"

"Nope."

They looked at each other for a couple of moments and Téa let him in, Todd grabbing her hand just as she shut the door.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," he said.

"It's the nature of the beast. I worry if you stay in the bathroom too long, or if you sleep too long … or if you take too long walking home from your appointments. So _worry_ would be expected if you run out at midnight into the snow to Brandy's bedroom."

"I didn't touch her."

"That's not much the point. I'm glad you're safe, that you stuck to promises. That's good. This was a tough night. You held it together. Mostly. It's going to be important for Jed. He needs you to hold it together."

Téa pulled her hand away from him and went upstairs leaving Todd behind. He slumped into the couch and watched the sun come up, sleep escaping him.

He'd been close to falling off the cliff tonight, falling into that river. Lights and hopeful eyes had moved him. Right before he fell asleep, he figured it was because she was his sister in hell, his counterpart. She was him. And the only person who would make a difference in his life would be … him.

 **To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**On** **the** **Edge** **of** **Wakefulness** , **Part** **3**

 **Chapter 3**

 _The agony inspiring her screams tell him she is giving birth. She's in a rustic room, all dark wood and a stone fireplace. A fire burns there, a kettle hanging over it. He's hot from the fire, it's too big. Her screams pull him away. A red-headed woman kneels in the middle of the room, holding onto straps hanging from the slats in the ceiling. She is fully naked, her belly contracting, her full breasts leaking milk already. He calls out to her but no sound comes from him. He reaches to help but she ignores him. Liquid pours from in between her legs and the woman quiets, bearing down, pushing with focused determination. Todd holds his breath, and watches as a slick baby slides out onto a rug. He's never seen something so incredible, so miraculous. The woman relaxes and releases the straps. She's in a prayerful pose over the baby suddenly swaddled beneath her. She says, "God's beloved child …" She looks up at that, at him, her eyes widening in pleased recognition, and says, "He's ours. Take care of him for me."_

The emotion of the dream had lingered for hours after Todd had woken up. It stuck to him stubbornly as he showered, dressed, as he went through the motions of being a regular person. Even now, he found himself unable to let go of the request by the woman who had to be Michelle … or whoever. God, what a request.

 _Fucking kid._

Jedediahwas going to be the death of him.

In some ways, Jed's coming into his life held more significance than Starr. Loving her was effortless, she was pure light. She came from him when he was far from Peter, conceived at a time when the pain of his childhood had been as good as dead, buried. Starr represented nothing but good, sugar-sweet. Even the difficulties with Blair and him dealing with crazy stuff… nothing got in the way of loving that beautiful little girl.

Jed, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He came along at the height of Peter's aliveness, both at the time of his conception and when Todd had finally succumbed to the memories of what Peter had done to him. Add Jed's acrimonious nature, his being like Todd, and the deprivation of knowing the kid as a beautiful little boy… and you got that kitchen nightmare.

 _You DO know that he's been screwing a HOOKER? A WHORE? Right? Tell me you know that? She sucks his DICK!_

There was the mystery of him, too, his being so touchy, affectionate, judgmental … so open and yet so closed off when he wanted to be. Man, he could shut down. One wrong thing and the boy would snap shut the cover to his heart, a person practically had to jump back to prevent their fingers from getting cut off. Todd could still feel those condoms being shot at him, one of the more humiliating moments in his life. And wouldn't you know it, it came from an angry teenager. Finally, there was Jed's unique problems, his deep wounds. Some that Todd unfortunately could relate to. Yeah, a mystery.

Loving Jed was supremely difficult.

Someone touched Todd's shoulder delicately, saying softly, "Move forward."

"Oh, sorry," he answered, closing the gap in the line where he stood at the local crafts store. He had all sorts of leftover Christmas stuff in the basket he carried: Santa hats and Santa decorations. In the car he had department-store-wrapped gifts for Téa and Jed. Expensive ones. Yeah, Christmas had long passed him by. They had missed spending it with him.

Foggy visions of his Christmas season erupted in his head. A dirty floor in a cold park bathroom. A loop of a series of other bathrooms. China Moon Motel, two different apartments, even Dorian's house. Lots of beds. Lots of floors. The remembered feel of a needle pinch and slide into his arm made his forearm itch. The remembered high made him want to cry.

How Téa and Jed spent their Christmas, he had no idea. Squirming now, he wished the line would move faster, imagining that everyone could read his mind, that everyone knew what he was. However, nobody seemed impressed with him. No, for once he was thankfully anonymous. Just another consumer picking things up on sale.

Because … Christmas had come and gone. But tonight, he'd bring it back. He figured Jed and Téa would be surprised … he thought they'd have fun. He smiled to himself thinking about it. He had called a caterer, and there would be ham, some turkey, cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes. A veggie dish. The place was being decorated by professionals. This afternoon, Téa and Jed would return to a sparkling, fire-warmed, happy place. He would, too.

Things had smoothed out since the fight with Jed. With Tim's help, the trio had gotten back on track, new rules in place, more promises.

First one: no swearing. Jed wasn't permitted to curse at Todd or anyone. And the same for Todd. No cursing. "It takes away from getting to the bottom line," Tim had explained. "It focuses on the anger, it works at tearing apart the relationship, not clearing the air." Second rule: while Jed acknowledged Todd's and Tea's sex life wasn't any of his business, they agreed that if they were to engage in relations, it would be safe. Todd promised he would take care of Téa.

The meeting hadn't been an easy one. With Tim's assistance and that of Jed's own therapist, they were able to dig down into a percolating upset. It wasn't just the obvious bullshit that Todd had put Jed through, his stupid behavior in the apartment, but another heartbreaking hurt.

Jed said quite plainly, "Had you and my mom been safe, maybe I wouldn't been born … maybe a whole lot of pain would have been prevented. I don't want the same thing to happen again, with you bringing another kid onto this earth when you're not ready for it."

What Jed hadn't said so plainly, what he'd not put into words, though, was what hurt Todd the most: I wish I was never born. I'd rather not exist than be your child.

Todd wanted to cry at that thought and it was coming, but he fought expressing it. Tim had been worried, had told Todd privately that he needed to deal with this fact of Jed's feelings. But he buried the pain.

 _Nope, not gonna do it._

The checker smiled, something knowing in her smile, but he shrugged it off. On second glance, he thought she looked familiar … and there was something sort of sickly about her, too. He knew suddenly. He hoped she wasn't smiling because she recognized him.

"Cash?"

"No … here," he said, handing her a credit card. She looked at it. It was one of those cards only the really wealthy have. Like some super-duper platinum sorta Am-Ex. Whatever. She looked back at him. Flipped it over for his signature. Then one last glance and she ran the card.

When everything was paid for and put into bags, the girl said softly so nobody else would hear, "It's good to see you survived Toby's place."

He froze.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Swallowing hard, blanching, he tightened his jaw, "You got me mistaken for someone else."

She got embarrassed, "Oh. Sorry … sorry …"

Walking quickly, he got to the car with his stuff. Threw the stuff into the back seat and got in front. He gripped the steering wheel. He'd broken into a cold sweat. Jesus, his hands were shaking. He put his head down on the steering wheel. Oh he surely knew who she was. She had a baby and she'd bring the baby to Toby's. Todd had even held the child once … but he'd been so fucked up, he remembered wondering if the baby was Starr. He wasn't even as bad off as the baby's mother, that cashier. She would lie all over Toby's place, not knowing where her baby had gone. Sometimes she'd wander the rooms, asking, "Where is Lane? You seen Lane? Where he be at? Lane? I had him right here…"

A six-month old baby he had figured. The disturbing thing about that one time he held the baby was that he didn't remember letting go of it. Just next thing he knew, he was coming around hours later, hunched over on a ratty couch, baby and baby mama, gone. As far as he knew, he might have dropped the poor thing on its head. Slip, slip, slipping out of his drugged-up hands. He didn't like to think what people might have done to that unwatched baby. He never saw shit. Hoped it meant there was nothing to see. He liked to think he might have intervened. He felt sick. He wasn't sure he would have been able to move off the couch or the floor or whatever.

She'd survived Toby's … hopefully the baby had, too.

He licked his lips … because his brain was a fucking traitor. He suddenly remembered how _good_ it had all felt, the repeated high, fingertips searching for a good vein, up and down his arms and his legs and eyes on his, and then it was found and _oh my god, oh my god_ … and then… the… the… _things_ that went on even when he didn't want them… boosts to the boost. He squeezed his crotch. _Fuck._ Shadowy things gave him a spontaneous hard-on and a few more intentioned squeezes would have him coming in his jeans and it made him want to cry because he had no fuckin' control and that felt like stabs to the gut. Willed his dick to fucking let shit go.

 _Just stop, just stop, just stop..._

He was driving these days, trusting himself to get from point A to point B without veering onto Sixteenth Street. Next week or the week after might be a different story as he was planning to kick the methadone habit. He had his reasons … he needed to get off it. Had to get off it.

He turned the key to the ignition and took a deep breath. Gonna drive to the Penthouse, he told himself. Just to the Penthouse. Straight to the Penthouse. He shut off the motor. Stuck. He was just beginning to hyperventilate when he found himself looked through the glass at apologetic eyes.

God, he couldn't breathe.

The woman had followed him out. She was in front of the car, now. He pressed a button and the window rolled down. She walked around the BMW, coming up to him at the driver's side window.

"I know you," she said insistently.

"Yeah and what of it? The hell you want from me?"

"I don't know … maybe to ask if you remember my baby?"

"Yes," Todd whispered.

"He didn't make it, you know."

"Oh … " He tried to give condolences, but couldn't.

"Nothing anyone could do," she said. "Got pneumonia … and I was too fucked up to notice. By the time I realized he was sick, it was too late." Her eyes welled, tears flowing now. "I remember you. That you had a wedding ring and someone once tried to take it … and you sort of fought with them and they left you alone that one time."

 _That one time. Not gonna mention all them times they didn't leave you alone._

The shit she didn't say.

"Yeah, I don't remember that," he mumbled.

"I always thought it was sweet how you kept that ring. You seemed so attached to it. Other people would have sold it in a heartbeat. I see you still got it."

"Yeah … well …"

"Toby's was rough … and you got out of there. Makes me happy. I just wanted to say that to you. Look at you, a real nice car, and you got that ring on … you look great. More than great. Clean and sober, huh?"

He sighed, "You could say that."

"You on the 'done? Or you go cold turkey?"

"The first."

"That's good … well, good luck to you. That's all I wanted."

The woman nodded. Looking away, ready to walk away. And Todd readied himself to fly out of there. Except … curiosity got to him. She didn't look so good. "What about you?" he asked, "Clean and sober?"

The girl, her dried, bleached-blond hair catching a silvery light, said, "I wish. I'm on methadone, too, but …" She cleared her throat, "It's so hard."

"What?"

"I'm still using stuff, you know." She looked down at her hands, embarrassed or something.

If only, if only … he heard and felt the words forming at the base of his brain, snaky, slick, unfolding, stretching out and crawling along the gray paths … _if heroin isn't available, if the methadone kills off the good feelings when you shoot dope … what is available? How do you get that good feeling again right now? Huh? Tell me, tell me. How can I get high? Now?_

He shut off the screams inside of him and focused on her lips as she said beneath her breath, "Crack, you know. I could get off the 'done and go back, but I just don't want to do that. I guess I'm fooling myself, thinking that so long as it isn't dope." She wiped her face, "It feels real nice though. And after losing Lane, I need to feel good once in a while … I'm bad off I guess. Just can't let go. Anyway, sorry to bother you. I guess I wanted to know how you do it. You look so … healthy."

He wanted to laugh out loud, hysterically even. How does he stay clean? Listen, girlie, imagine a wall of granite … now picture an alley cat with its claws digging into the rock … no, _attempting_ to dig into the rock. Then see the cat sliding down, down, down … barely hanging on … blood from its paws streaking the wall… its kitty-cat screech deafening as it feels the splash of cold water from the rushing water below … 'cause that kitty's gonna fuckin' fall, but it's not quite there yet. Claws dug in just enough to keep him right above the current. If she could see _that_ , then maybe she'd know how he 'stayed clean.'

"I don't know," he answered, "Get therapy, get yourself off the other crap, you look like shit … I have to go." She stepped away and he turned the key and hit the pedal hard, driving quickly out of the parking lot, driving faster and faster until he saw the boulevard for the Penthouse. But he had to hit the breaks, tires squealing, having to make a sharp turn to avoid an old lady in a slow-moving car.

"Shit … shit … God damn it, drive! MOVE IT!" he yelled through the open window. Cold air blew at him.

Trying to rein in the building addiction madness, he thought of the Christmas he was going to have, thought of Jed and Starr … and Téa smiling pretty. His life was so much better without the drugs, wasn't it? Yeah? He's gotta a nice car after all.

 _Oh hell, fucking HELL._

He passed Mountain drive. If he made a left hand turn he would eventually hit Llanview Boulevard and if he made a right he would hit Greene and then he'd be there.

Sixteenth Avenue … and he'd be there.

 _Meow, meow, meooooooooow!_

He stamped on the brake pedal and pulled off to the side of the street. He banged down his head on the steering wheel. Smoking crack would recapture some of those good feelings he missed … that particular good feeling that made him forget everything. People who had dope could get him crack just the same.

 _Right now._

And that's when he heard a door shut and the sound of authoritative shoes scraping against the asphalt. When he raised his head, and checked out the rear view mirror, he saw flashing lights atop an undercover police vehicle.

"Fuck …," he groaned as he turned to look out the window. He shut off the engine and … couldn't believe that Bo Buchanan stood glaring down at him.

"Kind of fast there, Manning." Bo studied Todd through the still-open window. "You sweating in this weather?"

"Just had a scare is all."

"You under the influence?"

Todd sighed in exasperation, eyed the Commissioner. "You back on the beat, Buch-y? What happened, got a demotion?"

"You want to step out the car?"

"Hell, no. You think I'd be driving if I was high?"

"Never know."

"That's not my style."

"Yeah, you do prefer the sewers when you're using, that's true."

Todd rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion like a teenager muttering, "Whatever, Buchanan, whatever." He wanted to try out some more of his cursing abilities, but held back because… well… _duh_ … he had in fact been fighting a very real urge to take a dip into that sewer.

 _Fuck._

Bo finally let him go, getting back into the car and sliding back into the traffic. Todd sat for a moment and then got going. Watched the route to Sixteenth Avenue fade in the rear view. The temptation though had come to life, brilliant, blossoming, a flower dancing in the breeze, spitting tasty seeds at him.

 _Come home, my love._

When he got to his building, he walked slowly from his car with his bags in hand and felt a bit hopeless. He barely acknowledged the doorman, getting into the elevator absently. Would he ever be free of the desire to go back? Would he be like that girl who lost so much and still used? God, he didn't know what it was going to take to keep him well into the sobriety part of that granite wall.

He awkwardly fumbled for his key and put it into the lock, battling a wish to go back downstairs. When he turned the key at last, when he decided to go through with the evening, he stepped through the doorway and gasped at what the Penthouse had been transformed into. It was amazing, both beyond his expectations and exactly what he'd hoped for.

He leaned back against the shut door, bags at his feet, his mouth parted in … well, in childlike wonder. He kept grinning in spite of himself. Closed his eyes at the scent of balsam and sugar plums coming from lit candles … a massive flocked Christmas tree stood tall in the corner of the living room, dripping with red and silver tinsel, equally brilliant globes decorating round and round, and the lights! In between all that color dangled wooden Victorian figurines, an old Santa, a boy and girl kissing, little presents with bows. So many. Then there were wreaths and shimmering garlands. Winter-fresh flowers lined the mantle draped with red and gold velvet, a fire crackled in the fireplace, with wood ready to replace the used logs … a punch bowl with cider lay invitingly on a table … beautiful linens and Christmas plates … and food … appetizers. Music poured in from all over, delicate Christmas music.

He laughed at himself because it wasn't that long ago when this would have made him sick. Not today, though, not right now. Now he understood Brandy's delight in a tiffany lamp swirling colors around the room, he sort of got her love of an onyx angel, her love of a hot bath.

Sliding down to the floor, he took in the transformation and wished to be a kid again. Wished his Christmases had looked like this. The small trinkets he'd purchased seemed … silly. Not enough and thoroughly meaningless. He dug around for one of the Christmas hats and put it on. Listened … and breathed in the peacefulness, the prettiness, the simplicity.

 _Meow_.

* * *

Téa threw her cell phone into her bag sharply, "Damn judge."

Kyle and Sister Rachel looked at her, concerned. Téa had arrived at the needle exchange unit out of sorts and hadn't really shaken it off. She apologized profusely for being late and then ended up on the phone in the back, away from clients.

"An immovable system," she explained, massaging her temples as if she had a headache.

"Talk to us, Téa, maybe we can help," Kyle offered.

After a few moments, Téa decided to unburden herself, "It's the juvenile court. I've got custody … but a social worker called me this afternoon and they're suddenly balking at the fact that Todd's living with us. They're deeply concerned about the relationship, they worry that Todd's addiction problems will incite more trouble with Jed especially in light of Jed's own addiction to marijuana and running away. Even though he's been great! I don't know what happened to spark their concern. I'm so frustrated."

"Something happened?" Sister Rachel inquired.

"Yes … something … they're not telling and and I won't deny that I worry someone spotted Todd doing something wrong. The thing is … things are going okay. A few bumps but … Jed wants this despite how hard it is, he wants to be where he is. And after the crappy life he's been given, I hate to take a single thing away from him."

Kyle and Sister Rachel nodded in understanding, but it was short lived. Kyle squinted as if warding off an attack and said, "But his best interest comes first. If your husband is a danger to him, a risk …"

"I know that. Of course. And if there's a hint that Todd would actually be hurting Jed things would change in an instant but so far, I don't see it. Jed for the first time in a long while is attending school on a regular basis. He's doing well … even with his fury at times … he's still doing better. He's not using any drugs, not drinking … he's not running anymore. Do you know what that is? For him? To not run?"

"Day by day," Sister Rachel said.

"Yeah, I suppose."

With a heaviness in her movements, Téa gathered her belongings and bid her goodbyes. She apologized more and promised to be back as soon as she could. She would pick up Jedediah from the community center where he spent the afternoon working on homework. A routine for him that was working out. Then they would head for the Penthouse. Todd said he had dinner for them, burgers or something like that. She was glad he wanted to do something. Every 'good' thing he did was a big step for him so she appreciated it. She acknowledged it.

But it didn't take away her worry. What happened to get the social worker to call about Todd?

"Todd … TODD! What did you do?! God DAMN IT!" She screamed in her car as she headed over the center. Then took some tension-relieving breaths and focused.

It was tough taking care of two troubled people. She hated feeling like she was the 'law.' She didn't like that role on a constant basis … but it was imposed upon her thanks to the circumstances. Ones that she insisted on maintaining. This was her choice.

It would be nice to have a break, to be the weak one, to be the one who needed to be loved.

* * *

Jed brooded all the way home, to Téa's dismay.

"I want to go out," he complained.

"You can't go out. It's a school night. I already told you that."

"I'm not a kid."

"You want a detention facility? Because that's the alternative to following the rules of the custody agreement. There's also foster care."

"Whatever."

He slumped childishly in the seat and Téa rubbed his shoulder, "Hey … Jed, why the long face? This isn't like you."

"I know …"

" _Digame."_

He sighed noisily, "I just feel cooped up. I wanted to see Summer. Forget it."

"Todd has dinner for us. Burgers, I think. You hungry?"

"Yeah." He glanced at the clock in the car. Decided to try not to be a jerk. "There's a good horror movie on tonight … you up for it? Even though it's a school night?"

Laughing, Téa shook her head, "So long as you're in bed by ten. Brat."

* * *

The dinner had been laid out perfectly. The ham, the turkey … everything. Todd chuckled, knowing how shocked they'd be. And he wasn't disappointed.

" _Madre de dios_ …" Téa murmured. She'd meant to ask Todd what had happened today, but the question vanished.

"Holy shit!" Jedediah shouted.

Téa and Todd both said at the same time, "No swearing!"

"Sorry! But … holy shit! This is crazy!"

Todd beamed … proud as he could be. He watched Téa and Jed admire the place and look at the food, at the sweets, at the tree, and the gifts. Jed got serious and sat quietly at the table, munching on some food. Téa walked to the tree and touched the decorations … touched the figures.

"They're so perfect … how …?"

"I hired some people. They went overboard … what can I say?" He smiled and laughed a little, the Santa hat crooked. "Oh that plastic banner that says 'Merry Christmas,' that's mine. Six ninety-nine on sale!"

Laughing, Téa walked up to him and hugged him tightly, Todd taken by surprise. He hugged back weakly … a bit embarrassed, sheepish. They let go, Téa resting her hand on his arm.

" _Gracias_ , it's beautiful. But… why?"

Keeping his eyes on the decorations, he said, "I didn't have a Christmas this past year. Or even last year. I wanted one. And I wanted to share it with you and Jed. I'd have liked Starr to be here … but …" He glanced away, dropped his head and shrugged slightly. "Anyways … you like it?"

"I love it. I'm floored."

Jed had scooped some food onto a couple of plates for Todd and Téa. He didn't say much, though. Todd sat next to him, asking, "You okay?"

"Yeah … fine …"

"You like it? Or it's not your thing?"

Jed swallowed hard and didn't look at Todd. Téa furrowed her brows in worry …

" _Mijo_?"

Jed put his fork down, kept his eyes on his plate. "You did this for us?"

"Yeah. I even got you some gifts. One I can't wait to open … and hook up." He grinned mischievously, but it faded quickly. "What's wrong?"

"You going someplace?"

Todd was taken aback. "No … I'm not."

"You do something bad? You trying to make up for it?"

The music continued and Todd got frustrated, getting up and shutting it off. He pulled Jed's chair out with Jed still in it and turned it. He took his own chair, pulled it out and turned it, too, so now they were both seated facing each other.

"Yeah," he said, "I'm trying to make up for a lot of shit. I can't change what happened to me … to your mom. I can't change what I've been doing for the past couple of years." Jed's eyes had dropped and Todd got firm, "Look at me." Jed did. "I'm a heroin addict and I got it bad. It's my way out and every minute of every day is spent dealing with that fact. Today, I ran into a woman I used to see at one of the… places... that I went to. She had this baby, you know? Like she'd be getting with that six-month old right next to her. Well, today she told me he died. You think that would be enough to stop her but guess what? She's still using. And guess what, I wanted to know what she did … tell me, I asked, what can I do while I'm on methadone? What … will … feel … good? Right now."

Jed's hands flew up to his eyes and he scrunched down in the chair … but Todd grabbed his hands and held them down, "Look at me," Todd inisted, tears in his eyes, "look at me, Jed. That's _my_ life … not yours and it's not your fault and there's nothing you can do about it. But you can do something about YOUR LIFE. We are responsible for ourselves. You for you, me for me … Téa for Téa. Yeah … we're all mixed up in this one blender and things we do affect everyone else but in the end, our lives are on our own shoulders. And you have to remember that. You can't control ME … I can't control you."

Jed didn't look away.

Todd's voice softened, "I'm so glad you're here. I'm so proud that you're my son. That you have the guts to tell me where to put MY bullshit. I'm so proud of you doing what you're doing to get through the days, to get ahead. I'm so proud that you're not running away anymore."

Todd could feel Jed shaking and holding back the tears, but he needed to finish. To say what he had to. "We have a long ways to go … and … um … I'm not making false promises. I might walk out of here tomorrow and do that thing all over again. But it's not on you, it's not your fault, it's nothing you've done, and… there's not a goddamn thing you can do to change it because it isn't about you. It's about me … and my own garbage that had nothing to do with you. I love you. I love you. That's all there is to it. I love that you're my son … and I will do everything I can to give you the best life possible. That's a promise I can make."

Jed dropped his head and Todd hugged him, pulling Jed to him, rubbing his head roughly, "I wish there was more I could do. I wish I could change things like magic but there's isn't any such thing, yeah?"

Things were quiet for a while. Jed pulled away from Todd and told him, "I'm sorry for being a pain in the ass."

"You're not a pain… you're being you. And I wouldn't want it any other way."

"I would hate you more than anything if you went back to using."

"I know."

"I don't want that."

"I'm trying, Jed … I'm really, really trying. But you gotta try to. To work on you."

Jed sighed, nodding. Todd gripped his shoulders, looked him in the eyes. "Promise me that."

"What?"

"Promise me that if I relapse in a forever kinda way, you will stay on your path and never look back, that you will tell the memory of me to fuck off. That nobody will slow you down, especially me."

That took a moment. Jed had to really think on that. He wasn't sure he could make such a promise. The idea of Todd dying from his addiction, which is exactly what he was saying, was absolutely terrifying. Jed's eyes watered. And he whispered, "Dad…"

Todd smiled and tears welled and he squeezed his son's shoulders… "You gotta promise me. You gotta."

Jed nodded, hard as it was. "I guess. But you have to—"

"No, I can't promise I'll be here tomorrow. I can only promise that I will try."

"Fuck you," Jed sniffled.

"Look, you're already doing it. Telling me to fuck off." Todd smiled at made a mock tender punch at Jed's shoulder.

"I promise. I'll stay on my path."

Todd huffed and hugged Jed like a boxer, pressing his forehead to Jed's. "Thank you," he whispered.

When they separated, Jed had a sudden dark look on his face. Todd flashed a questioning expression.

"If you relapse," Jed said, "if you fall off the wagon, you have to promise us that you will not do it here. That before you shoot up again, you'll walk out of that door and do it somewhere else. And if you decide that, if you choose dope over us, you'll be as good as dead to us. We will not open that front door for you."

Téa got up and left the room, disappeared into the kitchen. The pain of Jed's scenario tore into Todd and he took some hard breaths … because while he was just talking about dying in some general non-specific fantastical way, Jed brought Todd back into the real world. Shooting up in the Penthouse bathroom, bleeding on the floor, fucked up, behind a locked door… or not. Maybe right out in the open. Right upstairs while the Christmas tree sparkled.

 _Meoooooow!_

Shooting up here wasn't that far out a possibility. Because _trying_ to stay clean was chicken-shit language to say he couldn't stay clean. Because the Princess of Peace was standing behind him, her hands reaching down his shirt, down his jeans, and her claws were dug into his balls.

And Jed could see her.

Being here was a privilege, good fortune, as precious as Christmas on the first day in spring. The lights sparkled and the music drifted low in the room.

Todd then said softly, "I promise that if drugs come into my life again, I will walk out of that door and not come back until I'm clean."

He did not add the obvious. That if heroin came back, he'd die of it. He would never walk back through that Penthouse door. Full circle back to the promise he asked of Jed.

 _You do you, kid, and never look back._

 **To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**On** **the** **Edge** **of** **Wakefulness** , **Part** **3**

 **Chapter 4**

The Christmas dinner had been delicious, of course, having come from a pretty famous local eatery. After their shared hard promises, the mood lightened and it started with Téa literally tripping back into the dining room and spilling egg nogs onto the carpet and the table. Todd and Jed turned to look in a shock at Téa saying "Oh shit!" with now-empty mugs in her hands and Todd and Jed burst out laughing and that was it. Party was on.

Todd didn't share that he hadn't had lunch and that he was famished and that the sensation of being _hungry_ had been like meeting an old friend. Food had lost all appeal until only recently. Funny since eating together was the one thing he and Téa did well and did consistently throughout their relationship. Funny that since he'd come to the Penthouse, the only shared meal were dinners and those tended to be quiet exercises in civility and they were making him crazy. So tonight had been a huge relief of sorts.

Téa had smiled brightly at Todd at one point and joked, "It's good to see you eat so enthusiastically." In response, he shoved another mouthful of creamed corn into his mouth and talked with his mouth full on purpose and Jed cracked up. They all did. After that, they started sharing their most ridiculous food stories. Jed told his, and Todd and Téa told theirs.

And in the midst of it, Todd and Téa both realized in the very same moment… that _they_ had stories. Todd and Téa had history. They sounded like old married people telling the grandkids of their years of courting.

Funny that for the first time perhaps, the three looked and sounded like a family.

They then opened gifts and Jed laughed fully and noisily at what Todd had gotten him: a video game console with plenty of games. The newest of course. And Téa couldn't believe the extravagant tennis diamond bracelet … that he shrugged off. Téa smiled at him, knowing he was embarrassed. She knew he felt its emptiness, how it would never make up for anything. She sensed the sadness beneath the contentment on his face… and she caressed his hand, looking into his eyes, promising, "Hey, it's beautiful."

"Hard, expensive … glass."

"Each stone … a day at a time, round and round, endless."

"Right." He didn't sound convinced and Téa didn't like that - made her worry. So the rest of the night, she found herself touching him. She did it to assure him that he'd done a good thing tonight, to show him she was aware of him, that she cared about him. Random touches. A hand on his shoulder, a grip of his arm, a light brushing of his leg. He'd glance at her sometimes when she did that, glance at the point of contact, and then he'd flash a somewhat perplexed smile at her and go on as if nothing happened. She knew he was thinking about it because she'd catch him looking at her then look away. That did not stop her from continuing the tiny show of affection.

Todd and Jed played the games, laughing and giggling at the gun battles and car chases … until well after midnight. The place was in shambles with the boxes and the food that had been brought over to the television. They'd had so much fun. It had been… peaceful.

Before Jed went to bed, he said, "Thank you. I had a good night …"

"You're welcome," Todd had said, smiling, looking directly at his kid and giving his hair a tussle. As he headed up the stairs, seeing Todd and Téa still on the couch laughing over something, Jed was struck by how rarely he saw Todd smile or be joyful like he had been tonight. And in that he felt special, like not everyone could bring that out in him but that he and Téa could. It made him think that's what Michelle might have loved about him. That he made her feel special in being the only one to bring out the joy in him.

And then he felt truly sorry that a monster had killed off so much of that joy. He did catch himself, however. He reminded himself that just because he could bring joy out of him one day, did not mean he could bring it out always, or that somehow that "specialness" could in any way save his father's life. A bitter pill he had to keep taking. As Jed drifted to sleep, he was sorry he had his own monsters and he hoped he hadn't lost too much of his soul to them.

* * *

The lights twinkled on the tree unevenly and Todd tried to pick out the pattern but gave up because of course, it was random. There was no rhythm to the lights, no pattern. Just pure chance that some lights went off in some places and others … in other places. Just … electricity clicking on and off. Sort of like how all things work. Just the luck of the draw … nobody's fault, really.

He pushed aside some wrapping paper and leaned back on the couch. He and Téa had worked together at getting leftovers into the fridge and that had been sorta nice. She was hilariously bossy and she was happy to boss him around on proper food preservation… and it made him smile, then she gave him a warm hug and went to bed. He chose to stay up and be peaceful a while longer. Tomorrow was another day, a day to struggle, a day to consider giving up methadone … a day to hopefully find the beginnings of a search.

He planned on talking to Kevin Buchanan as soon as possible. He was bound and determined to do a final thing for Jed: _find Michelle_. He'd survived a fall into a river once … maybe she did, too. She could have had amnesia or stayed hidden out of some misguided effort to protect her child from Phillip.

But he had to get off methadone to do it. An addict couldn't go trampling all over the woods of West Virginia, not even a methadone addict because bears don't sell that shit in the woods … nope, he'd have to be off it. And that … was a double-edged sword. He shook the thoughts of tomorrow away and munched on a pretzel. He picked through a plate of goodies … candies. He missed Starr terribly … she would have loved this. He found himself dozing off … but awoke to a renewed hurt about everything, about how unsure he was of 'tomorrow.' If he couldn't hack it, if he was going to fall, he'd have to leave. He promised. He covered his face with his arm and didn't move, thinking the most hopeless thoughts, until he felt the air move and the delicate weight of someone near him.

Téa.

She had come back down after a shower. She was in a robe and barefoot and she smelled wonderful. She sat next to him. After some time of watching the lights in the now-darkened room, she said softly, "I'm proud of you."

He moved his arm back to his lap and shook his head, "No … nothing to be proud of. Not a big deal to call people."

"We had a blissful night. You made me remember _you_. But more importantly, I'm proud of the things you said to Jed earlier. That he has to move forward no matter what, that he can only fix himself."

Her words made him emotional and he found himself working to fight back tears. Téa then got to her feet. To his surprise, she bent down and kissed his cheek, her lips warm and silky. He automatically touched his cheek as she stood back up.

"You sleep well," she said. "Be peaceful."

She went upstairs. He watched her go. After some moments, he got up, too. He climbed the stairs and made the left turn to his bedroom. He left the door ajar because that's what he did — he wanted them to know what he was up to if he burrowed in his room. They could always peek in. They could always check. He did that for them. He didn't even lock the bathroom door… again, for them. Just in case. He brushed his teeth and stripped to nothing. Looked at his reflection, at the scars on his body. Touched the image and looked himself in the eyes. For all the peace of the night, the pain was still there. He knew it would never go away and no amount of love in the world was going to fix him. _Fucking hell._ After he showered, he got into bed … and lay there. He touched his chest where his heart was and had to work to stop dark thoughts that poked at him.

Not tonight, he thought.

When he was just about to fall asleep, eyes closed and rambling ideas beginning to spin into nothingness, he heard a gentle knock at his door and he fully awakened. He thought it was in his imagination. The door clicked, closing completely.

A vision of white stood there a while, bare arms at her side, light from the outside brightening her features and the ivory-colored sheer she often wore to bed. To him, she looked like an angel. He knew it couldn't be because angels didn't come to people like him.

And unlike any angel he knew and proving his theory, she got into the bed, lying down next to him under the covers. Todd looked at Téa, and touched the strap of her nightgown delicately.

"What are you doing, Delgado? Nothing's changed. Hell still lurks."

"I want to show you that I love you. I want you to know what it feels like. _My_ love. So if anything happens tomorrow … or the next day … or the day after that, you at least will _know_. You will _remember_."

Her words hit him hard. He grunted softly and pressed his forehead against hers. "No, no…"

"It's okay. I understand where you are. The chances of you… _falling_."

He caressed her cheek, the strands of hair framing her face. She smiled and touched his hand. But she could see how terribly sad he suddenly became.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It really could be tomorrow, the next day, next month… I might go back to it and I promised Jed if that happened I'd be gone."

"I know. It doesn't change my wanting you to know me. Doesn't change my wanting to know you. I want to know what we could be. Even if we never become it."

He looked at her for long seconds. Taking her in. She was beautiful, perfect. What she was offering was a gift. He could have looked at the bigger picture, the awful truth that she was anticipating his relapse in a huge goddamn way, but his brain chewed on more immediate concerns. Old thoughts. They blew up in his head. That touching her was defiling her. That he'd be ruining her. Worse ideas. Fears that he'd be triggered. That thoughts would come to him and he'd—

As if she heard his thoughts, she whispered, "You won't hurt me...here."

"I don't know that."

"I do."

She then moved in closer and kissed him. Just her lips on his. He felt how gentle she was, and that cautiousness, the light touch, reached deep inside of him. When the kiss ended, he could hardly breathe.

She smiled. "I want to give you this," she said, her breath warm on his mouth. "I want this. Let me love you."

In that shifting moonlight, she saw that he looked at her lips and moved to her eyes. He studied them for long seconds. Then he gave the smallest nod. He was embracing her, the two on their sides and facing each other. A soft sigh came from him. A final assent.

She moved in again and kissed him once more only this time he responded, kissing her back just as tenderly. And in that kiss he tasted her with the barest touch of his tongue. They kissed again and it was a new kind of kiss, one of learning the shape of lips, how they fit together, how the kiss worked between them.

 _This is how it would be. What they could be._

When he pulled away after those first real kisses, a look of surprise colored his face. She smiled and touched his cheeks, caressing his lips, looking at every bit of his handsome face that for so long had been so far away from her. He let her look and touch and smooth and he too, did the same.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

"So are you."

He went in again, to kiss her.

Except it was a grabbing of her mouth, a _claiming_ for lack of a better word. And he held her by the hair, a reflex, an instinct, a tight hold that made her gasp. His leg moved over hers, his body heavy and strong. Her heart jumped at his unexpected urgency and she craned her neck as he kissed her there, as he gently bit at her skin. She felt him reach behind her and pull her into him. He groaned softly as he kissed her again, full lips on hers, his tongue fully touching hers. Then he shifted back to a sweet way of caressing her with his tongue and mouth and she tried not to smile because she thought… _my god, you kiss so well._

And there she sensed his quickened breath, and her own.

He separated from her, to look at her once more, his expression, one of hesitation. He touched her cheek, his thumb moving along the lower lip.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes."

With a serious look, his brows furrowed, he roved the room like he was still considering, as if unsure this was real. Then as if deciding it all was indeed real, he bent and kissed her more, holding her tightly. Téa melted into him, their bodies fitting together perfectly and she almost wanted to cry at just how seamless their fit was, as if made for each other. All these years and here they were… fitting together.

"Todd," she breathed. Just his name.

He moved to her shoulder, heated kisses on her skin, his mouth trailing to the fullness of her breasts barely covered by the low front of her nightgown. She arched her back at that, and he moved further down to kiss her belly over the thin fabric. Aware she was bare beneath the gown. He pulled up to look at her again, panting slightly.

And he suddenly smiled, laughed even, lightness breaking through. He felt something unfamiliar, like he was suddenly in the skin of someone he wasn't sure he'd ever been. A thought almost made him laugh loud, scream-laugh.

"I feel like a virgin," he said bluntly. "I'm gonna mess this up because… I'm not gonna last. Like at all."

Téa laughed and then didn't. "We'll just do it again."

He breathed a shaky breath. And he swallowed a real wish to cry a little. "Are you sure?" he asked again.

She nodded. "I'm so very sure."

He moved the covers further off her and looked at her body and ran fingertips all the way down from her shoulder, down to her waist and down her leg as far as he could reach. He rested his hand on her hip. He breathed out hard and then pushed off the straps to her nightgown, slowly revealing her breasts. She reached up and caressed his face.

"God, you're beautiful," he said, eyes on her chest, sighing at the perfection. He wanted to apologize for having missed this, for having rejected her for so long, for ever having done that to her. He so wanted to explain that it hadn't been _her_ that stopped him. Ever. He said nothing though because he didn't want to bring ugliness to this moment. To this. To right now.

Smiling at him, she looked at his body. Her hand ghosted his shoulder, touched the tattoos he had, she moved fingers down his strong arms, across his chest and the light spray of hair, and the pinkish brown nipples. To her surprise, he shuddered, and she realized that unlike most men, he was sensitive. That it affected him when his nipples were touched or played with.

"Do that again," he said breathily. She did, touching his chest, those sensitive parts, and he pulled her into him, pressing his hips to her, pressing his whole body to hers. She continued to do that to him.

"You like that?" she asked.

He nodded and smiled a little, shaking his head. "It's weird and good and it's not helping the situation."

She smiled, laughed a little. He got embarrassed, cursed under his breath, and then bent to kiss her breasts. There, he suckled, pulled, tasted her. He made her moan sensually with his tongue, his fingertips.

She could hear emotion coming from him as he explored her breasts, breaking through in near whimpers mixed in with the sexual tension, with soft grunts … and he touched her waist, giving it a hard squeeze, held her bottom and squeezed there too and they kissed more and kissed harder and they watched each other with open eyes and then didn't.

She sat up and wiggled out of her nightgown and lay back, completely naked for him. He just looked at her, couldn't take his eyes off her. The light, he suddenly realized, was moonlight. He huffed.

"Téa...Delgado… god."

She got up on an elbow and reached to his hip. She began to inch down his boxer briefs. He stopped her though. It was strange how in this second, he was reluctant. He breathed out hard again, nearly tearful because while heroin had freed him from his celibacy, the reasons for it hadn't gone away.

 _Fuck_.

"What's the matter?"

Eyes cast downward, he said, "Ghosts. I get all screwed up…"

She was about to ask smartly, bitterly, if he got all screwed up with Brandy, too, or what about Blair, but she stopped herself cold. No. Not today. Not tonight. Not when he looked so very worried.

"I'm here," she said instead. "I'll protect you."

"It's not me I'm afraid for," he choked, holding her, deep concern on his face. He kept his hand on hers, her delicate fingers still beneath the stretched waist of his boxer briefs, his favorite kind that were more like bike shorts, more covering than usual. He was still himself.

"Whatever happens," she promised, "we are safe, we are okay. I love you."

"Téa," he whispered, desperate eyes on hers. He held her hand still, then with a chewing of his lip, helped her pull the briefs down his thighs where he got them off himself, tossing them away.

It was her turn to look at his moonlit body, his muscles, the shape of him as he lay on his back. He was so very beautiful and she smiled. He was hard despite the worries and he grunted softly when she touched him, cock twitching when she explored the soft sack and the shaft and the head, eyes on hers as she gently… _touched_.

He looked into the shadows, looking for ghosts. He watched her, held her, as she kissed his shoulder, his neck. He searched the darkness again, listened for _them_ , victims and abuser alike. They were thankfully at bay as she began to stroke him, as she ventured to learn how he liked to be touched.

"I'm going to come if you do any more," he said, agonized.

"It's okay. Do. This is knowing you. I had no idea you were so… excitable." She smiled and without her being able to stop, tears welled in her eyes. She couldn't help but think how his body had been taken from him. That he missed out on years of such _excitability_.

"I didn't know either," he laughed softly. "Shit."

He touched her cheek and she kissed his hand. "You really are beautiful," she said. "I hope you know that."

"No… no…"

She gripped him then, a firmer grip, and he thrust a little into her fist. They looked at each other, held each other's gaze. He kept his hand on her wrist, exerting a slight effort at control, whether it was for more movement or less, she didn't know.

He brought his knee up and she could hear his heavy breaths, quickening with her strokes. She saw him grind his foot into the sheets. He was big like she remembered, a perfect penis, gorgeous really. She had touched him before but she could not get over how empty a moment that had been, how little he had actually shown of himself.

This time was different. They were present and intentioned and free of anger or hate or heroin. Tonight was everything. Tonight would be forever. She kissed him and kept stroking, the satin-soft skin moving over the hardness.

"Like that?"

"Yeah…," he said in a ragged heated whisper. But then he added with more force, his teeth gritted, "Tighter and a little faster."

The direction was breathtaking, thrilling, to Téa. He said it raw, plainly, a delicious revelation of his sexuality she had never known. It was what she had wished for and felt hopeless over for so long. She smiled to herself. She was so ready for him. Hell might lurk but no matter. He needed this first. They needed it. She leaned into him, feeling his strong body. Kissed him hard, smelling freshly soaped skin. _His soap_. She pressed her cheek against his goatee, rubbing against him. Looked at his parted lips, hearing him, seeing that he rocked his head back in total pleasure before he reached for and caressed her breasts. The way he squeezed her nipple wetted her and she made noise and he groaned at that. Her thigh was over his legs and she rubbed herself against him.

"I love that," he moaned, holding her as he thrust his cock into her hand over and over. "Téa…" He was close and needed more so he grabbed her hand, tightening her fingers around him and moving her hand on him even faster.

They only had to do a few more strokes and he actually cursed like any other man she knew, someone so unbothered by the world.

"Oh fuck… oh fuck…"

And she tried not to laugh joyfully because he was everything she had once imagined and so very different than the first time in Brandy's apartment, so not sick, and so true and real. He came in her hand, hot and slick, wetness spreading onto his belly as he closed his eyes, shaking at the intensity of it, and she found she was close too just from watching him, from rocking on his muscles thigh. He grabbed her at that. Held her with his whole body, jerking at the lingering effect of coming. The fact that he stayed hard didn't escape her notice.

"Jesus Christ," he said softly, stunned almost. He couldn't remember when he last had that kind of orgasm — it just wasn't part of his life. Nothing so good as that. He kissed her passionately, their tongues touching, his deep inside her mouth that tasted incredible to him. He understood then that while the heroin had freed him to have sex, it inhibited sensations. That was a reality. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt this way. And it gutted him. They touched everywhere. He felt _everything._ They rolled on the bed and looked at each other. They smiled at moments and then didn't.

"You're killing me, Téa," he breathed. "Tell me you want this."

"I want this, I want you inside of me. I want you to love me."

"I hope you know… I love _you_." He wanted to say more but figured he'd screw things up so didn't. "We have to be safe," he said instead, "…do you have…?"

She smiled and nodded and reached over him to his nightstand. She opened the drawer and took a package out. He never even knew they were there.

"I put these here a while ago—"

"Don't say anything more."

Todd ignored the ugly truths that might have motivated her to put them there, knowing it wasn't sex with _her_ she had been thinking about. He paused and looked at her serious face, still so girlish, as beautiful as a summer day at a pristine lake, and then he put it on … and he got on top of her like they really were virgins, feeling her thighs part for him, her legs wrapping around him. He cursed under his breath again because it was so perfect and he was so _fucking_ unworthy. He reached down to see, to make sure he wouldn't hurt her, and he glanced up fast when he felt how wet she was, seeing that he'd done that to her. She bit her lip and smiled almost shyly as he explored her opening, as he caressed the petals and pearl and watched her agony.

"God," she sighed, pulling his hand away. "I want you inside of me...now."

Her words thrilled him this time and he reached down to guide himself into her and she gasped as he did that. She slowly widened her legs for him as he slowly entered her …

And he did so with as much restraint as he could muster because he was suddenly aware, reminded by a sledge hammer of truth, that he could break her now, that every bit of hate could come to life now, that he could tear her to pieces just the way he did to Brandy mere months ago, just as he'd done to others farther back.

"Téa …," he huffed, laying his head against her, still now, unmoving, deeply inside of her. He was trembling, holding himself up, protecting her from his weight, from force that lived inside of him, and she knew that.

So she held his face with her warm hands and looked into his eyes, his long hair hanging down. "You will not hurt me, Todd. You will not hurt me." She moved her body against his, thrusting upwards and spreading her thighs. She did it rhythmically, breathily saying, "Can you feel how open I am, how wet I am…so wet you can't hurt me, so open you can't hurt me..."

… and when he looked at her, he could see the woman she was, the fighter, the wall of strength she never hid. He kissed her powerfully at that, like a test, and she met him with her own strong kisses and only then did he begin to move inside of her, only then did those movements begin to get stronger, more forceful, and it was because he wanted more of her strength, needed more of it. And he did it _because_ of all his worries and fears and the ghosts that threatened to break through the shadows.

In a frenzy, he pushed off the sheets that pooled at their feet and rolled her on top of him … and she sat up … so they could see each other.

She rubbed his chest and moved on top of him and came easily that way, her head lolling down, moaning at the come, sucking at his fingers pressed into her mouth… but she didn't weaken, she didn't collapse. She held his shoulders and lifted herself up and down on him … slowly with purpose… and he groaned at the intense sensation … touching her ass, sitting up to suckle at her tits, rubbing her against him until he couldn't take any more and he grabbed her fully into his arms and rolled with her so he was on top so he could bury himself deeply again, thrusting into her capable body, a receiving body perfectly built to take him, all his muscles flexing with sexual urgency, grunting openly, noisily. And god, how she gave it right back to him.

But then he suddenly slowed and held himself still, panting, frozen, memories and monsters taking over his head in a chaotic swirl of screams and grunts that combined victim and rapist and murderer and he could not be sure who he was in all that or who she was and Téa must have known the nightmare happening because her voice broke through and she said, "Todd, Todd, look at me, it's just me … I love you … it's just me, your Téa. It's all good, it's all okay."

When he opened his eyes and lifted his head, it was Téa he found and when he glanced around the room, it was the Penthouse he saw, and he sighed at the smallest word she had just used.

"You're… mine?"

She laughed a little, eyes wetting at the relief. "Always," she said.

He didn't fight that idea, even though he didn't think it was true. She believed it and maybe that's all that mattered. He kissed her, relieved that the ghosts had faded and he decided he would just live right now in a moment, embrace how good they felt, how beautiful her body was, how amazing _she_ was, how alive they both were. So alive, he thought drunkenly, that he could die happy, as they say…

When he came at last, his body stiffened and he held his breath through the intense waves… and Téa held onto him, fingers digging into his back because her own orgasm gripped her, making itself known in the sounds she made. Sounds he loved that reached much deeper than he thought possible.

They both then collapsed into each other, there at the end. She said she loved him, _don't forget that, can you feel that_ … and he wanted to say meaningful things back to her but words escaped him and he just held her tighter, tight enough to tell her without words that this was the best love he could give her right now, that he'd need her the rest of his life however short or long it might be, that she was the sun, the moon, and the stars to him. Even if… even if... he fell...

This he knew.

She caressed his hot skin for the longest time after, and he caresses hers, until their breathing softened and they were left just looking into each other's eyes. The last thing she said, said forcefully, like words alone could make it happen, was that he was going to do this thing… that they all would. That they were going to make it.

Before he could think too much of the ghosts and monsters that made him doubt her words, he fell asleep in her arms, believing in tomorrow.

Peaceful.

As he walked through a world of dreams, he could see the lights of the Christmas tree, randomly flashing … quiet … quiet.

 **To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 5**

Llanview's Juvenile Courtroom buzzed with the footfalls of attorneys, clerks, and the teenaged clients and their parents during an unexpected break in the proceedings. They soon settled and the bailiff informed everyone to remain seated as the judge reentered and sat at her desk. Honorable Francis Delaney was an older woman with blond-gray hair cut neatly into a short style, an unforgiving expression, and small black-rimmed reading glasses which she peered over at opportune moments.

Téa was nervous. The judge wasn't pussyfooting today. Several kids had already been shipped off to facilities, the court's sympathies seeming to be stretched thin. Adjusting herself in her seat, Téa studied the motion papers which were conspicuously devoid of exactly why Jed's custody arrangement was being questioned. She knew Todd was involved…but nothing more than that.

She rubbed her neck, covered by a scarf. It wasn't style or weather that made her wear it but a small lingering bruise from a particularly impassioned kiss a couple of nights ago.

Yes, things had shifted. He took her breath away. After so long of a non-sexual relationship with him, to see, to feel, to learn his sexuality amazed her. They would fall into making love every night despite her insistence that they _not._ Too fragile a time, Jed, Jed, Jed. It was near impossible to resist, however. _He_ was impossible to resist. He'd be at her door and be uncharacteristically shy, head slightly down and eyes up. He'd also be unintentionally sensual with the way his robe hung open, the robe she had bought him, a dark blue cashmere that showed his bare chest and stomach and those black bike shorts that revealed exactly what _he_ looked like. He wouldn't even say anything, just light eyes on hers and a face that said… _hold me tighter, Delgado, keep me together._

She was being…

...profoundly negligent. Because she couldn't keep him together. She worried every morning after. Is this another addiction? Is this like the sex Jed described?

 _Gonna do Téa now? Gonna fuck her the way you fucked Brandy, gonna get her to occupy you while you wait to relapse?_

She'd wondered so long what they'd be like and now she knew. _They_ were passionate, curious, frenzied. There was a lot of love in it. Real love. And she was scared as hell because her vision was… obscured.

 _Just hugging tonight because there is still so much work with Jed. We can't be obscured._

 _I know. I want to hold you. I don't expect—_

 _Oh I know. I'm not saying you're demanding wifely duties._

 _I'm definitely not doing that, Delgado._

 _You feel good. This feels good. It's good, isn't it?_

 _Can I kiss you? A hug and a kiss because they go together._

 _Just one. Then nothing but a hug._

 _Just the one. We don't want to be obscured, like you said. For Jed._

 _Exactly… just… one… oh my god… Todd… stop doing that…_

 _I'm sorry… fuck. I can't help it… god, you feel good…._

 _We can't be obsc—_

Hence the scarf.

Todd seemed okay, she told herself, definitely a lifted mood. Not brooding as much as he was. He was going to the office, being the chief editor on a very part time basis. Still going to the methadone clinic. Jed was great, doing his thing. On the surface everything seemed… great. But… but… someone saw something that week of the springtime Christmas gift or heard something and here she was, about to fight for Jed's custody.

Something wasn't right. The papers said… _there had been a change._ What change? There didn't seem to be a change at home other than her and Todd being closer. Maybe she _was_ holding him together, maybe she'd stopped the change in its tracks.

The court had been packed and she couldn't believe how long it took to get this "emergency" hearing. The fact that it took this entire week plus was the only reason she didn't think the thing with Todd could be that bad. It would have been the next day if it was very serious. How could she judge though? She was… _obscured_.

Thing was, he slept in this morning. Thing was he said he wasn't feeling well last night and it was the first night since springtime-Christmas that they hadn't made love. She'd not looked in on him prior to leaving, either. There was a part of her that didn't want to know anything because any change scared her to death. Clearly, that she worried about changes meant she was still walking a tightrope with trays of breakable figurines on each arm. One slip and the whole thing was going to crash down.

She would fall… and so would he.

 _So goddamn obscured._

The judge eyed her clerk, handing her a just-closed file, and called out another matter. Jed's file was coming up next. Aside from the mood of the judge, the prosecutor was visibly hot under his collar, seeming to be on a real push to break up families today. Téa found herself chewing her nails. She clasped her hands across the papers on her lap to stop herself. Futilely, she tried to put Todd out of her mind…but his last words to her stuck. Two days ago in the darkness of her room as they lay naked and intertwined, hot under the covers, he asked, _will you still be here if I don't make it? Will you still love me?_

She'd tightened her hold of him and said, _of course I'll love you but don't worry, you're going to make it, we are going to make it,_ then she urged him back to his bed because she didn't want Jed to know they were sleeping together. Just didn't want to unsteady the tightrope.

Why _was_ he sleeping so late? She should have checked on him.

Gazing coolly over the audience for a moment to get them to settle down, the judge read from a new file put in front of her. "Number 15, Llantano County versus Jedediah Chant….emergency hearing on custody. Make your appearances, counselors."

Her turn.

* * *

When the fall came, it was a relief to be honest. You know back in school when the coach had you hang on the wooden wall bars to strengthen your upper body? Yeah the whole team would just be hanging there as long as they could, being pushed by the coach… _Stay on it! Don't drop! Don't let go! Come on! Come on!_ It was hard - seemed easy 'cause you're just hanging there, not like pull-ups or anything. But the strain would start after some minutes, the pain, the shaking, the mind-numbing need to just _drop_. The groans would start after the shortest time and then one by one each athlete would drop to the floor. God, the feeling of finally letting go was the best. You'd drop and be like… _oh thank you, thank you, thank you_. The relief in your muscles, the incredible release that flooded your body and brain was better than anything. Giving up, giving in… fuck it, yeah?

 _Boom. Down you went._

Todd had been standing outside the clinic, smoking a cigarette. He'd had an informative conversation with the clinic guy about weaning off methadone because he needed to go to West Virginia to try to find Michelle Chant and didn't want to be strangled by the sweet doses he needed every day. It was a thing he had to do for Jed. A gift. After being with Téa, though, he tried to put the plan out of his head. Stuck to the methadone. Their nights were… amazing. Having her in his arms fed a little something inside of him and a voice inside of him said… maybe next month. Maybe the month after. But the idea stayed in his cheeks like a squirrel kept a walnut. Kept rolling out onto his tongue. He finally decided that NO, he had to find Michelle, had to confirm beyond all doubt that she was dead. And if he had to search through every bit of shrubbery, every bit of brush and under every rock, along the New River, he would. If the answer was yes, that no question she was dead, he wanted to bury her proper. Steal back the bits and pieces that had been thrown to the wolves…and set her free. If he found her alive, the answer was obvious. A child would find his mother. Something Todd had been so deprived of, something he'd give anything to resolve for Jed.

 _Liar._

So the clinic guy said the best thing was to wean himself off the methadone. He also talked to his favorite Doctor Graham too. Curly-haired, fatherly, brotherly, doctor-ly Tim had said, "Go off the methadone slowly because the withdrawals are harsh and you're on a good-sized dosage." Nobody took a second look at Todd's justification. They didn't need to. He was being… honest.

 _Liar._

Except Todd didn't want to do it the slow way. He was determined to get off the program and go to West Virginia. _Immediately_. He had been smoking the cigarette and repeatedly scraping his respectable black business-y shoe on the dirty concrete, trying to scuff the bottom so the shoes would be less slippery on carpet. They were damn expensive things and one would think they didn't need scuffing but they did. He kept sighing in a school-girl way while leaning up against the graffitti-stained wall. _Scuff, scuff, scuff._ He was hungry and couldn't decide if he wanted a sandwich or a burger or a healthy sorta veggie lunch that Téa insisted they all should do instead of the usual. He stuck his hand into his pants pocket and touched the cash there. He didn't know what he was waiting here for. He'd taken the methadone, had the talks, and now just stood here. People passed him by and sometimes joined him for a smoke before going on their way. One particular guy decided to talk to him.

 _Hey, man._

 _Hey._

 _You on the program?_

 _Is there something else they do here?_

 _Nah… haha true dat. How long you been on it, man?_

 _Not sure, not that long._

 _I been on it two long years._

 _Wow._

 _You thinkin' 'bout gettin' off?_

 _What makes you say that?_

 _Heh heh heh I'm a mind reader, brother._

 _Funny._

 _You want some insurance?_

 _What are you talkin' about?_

 _Insurance, brother. If you go off the 'done and feel sick… use the insurance._

So much had been riding on his staying clean. Téa betrayed her own principles for it and he knew it was because of what she said that night Jed got all pissed off at him. _Maybe things would be easier if we were closer._ It was a beautiful gift- giving herself to him. He'd asked her that one night and she shut him down but she changed her mind the night of the Christmas party he gave them. And she was everything he knew she'd be. _They_ were everything he knew they could be.

But then… it was like being handed another kinda heroin. She didn't know. She had no fuckin' idea. Her own insistence that they not get sexual because they'd be all screwed up and would miss things was true and correct except...it choked him. Another thing to be deprived of. That second night he tried to sleep and tried to ignore his body's screams for her. He kept going over and over the fact that that it was a one-time thing and she wanted to give him a memory to hold onto, something to be inspired by, or… just an experience they both needed to have.

He wanted it though. He wanted to feel her again. He needed to feel her again. So he went to her room and that was it. They'd been together every night and the high he got from it was… pretty goddamn good. She was sexy and met his every touch and roll and thrust. She was strong. She was exciting. She was… good. It made him smile during the day. Gave him something to think about.

He puffed on the cigarette and sighed the little girl sigh. He loved her. As much as he was capable of loving her. Always had. Since the day she said she'd take the five million dollars. And still… she was an addiction. Her body was. They way she loved him was.

And she'd regret it every morning… because of Jed… but then he wanted it anyway. He didn't really care about her worries. They were fine, he said to her. Jed was fine. And god, wasn't making love until two or three in the morning to the point where she was grabbing the bedposts and screaming into a pillow worth the small risk that Jed might be upset?

 _Love me again, love me until you scream._

They were counting on him despite all the promises that they were just going to deal with their own shit and they couldn't control him and don't worry because if something happens it's only on him. Except people can't control themselves so they really needed him to stay on course. So he hung on to those bars. So hard. Hanging on. He was sweating and straining and hurting all through his muscles. His hands were burning he was hanging on so hard. His hair was in face and he couldn't fix it because he'd have to let go and the whole thing would be over if he did.

 _You got powder kinda insurance? You got a delivery system?_

Another guy had the rest. On the other wall smoking a cigarette. He needed more insurance though. So he stopped by a park he knew. By the time he was driving home, he was out of cash and the shit was burning a hole in his back pocket.

 _Insurance. Only if the withdrawals get unbearable. A little dope will make it easier and then you can move on to West Virginia._

He stopped at a light and burst into tears, sobbed so hard because letting go would be so damn easy. Because he was so tired of fighting. Because he was in so much pain for the hanging onto those bars and no, sex was not the same. Love wasn't the same. Nothing was enough because the ghosts were still all over him, inside of him. Peter wasn't going anywhere. Every night he'd go to bed and there that bastard would be.

 _Was she good, son? Did she do as good a job as I did?_

He needed to drop already. Hanging on was killing him.

* * *

Taking a breath, Téa walked to the podium, placing her briefcase on the floor to her left. She did her best to sound calm.

"Téa Delgado-Manning on behalf of myself and Mr. Chant."

The prosecutor, a tall, thin young man with a put-on expression of firmness, made his appearance, "Daniel Washington, on behalf of the county." He had no problem using his expensive suit and the deep timber of his voice as intimidation tools. No question, he had a reputation to build…and Téa hated to think he was going to use Jed as a stepping stool, like he did with the other kids who could have used some empathy.

"All right," the judge said, "...what do we have?"

The prosecutor piped up, "Problem with the custody arrangement, your honor."

"Well, go on."

"Ms. Delgado-Manning has custody of the juvenile…"

The judge interrupted, as if she suddenly remembered the details, "Oh yes, the juvenile was placed with Ms. Delgado-Manning who's currently living with Todd Manning, the biological father, who's in a program for heroin addiction." The judge peered over her glasses, asking for confirmation. She'd said the word, "heroin" with plenty of judgment.

"Yes, your honor, and things have been progressing very well," Téa offered. "Jedediah's attending school full-time, his grades are good, he's happy. Also, he's made nice friends—they seem to be well-adjusted and have shown themselves to be good influences."

"Right… and I see that's being corroborated by the social worker, Kathy Grant. She says Jedediah is following the rules, attending his own addiction program…um…and noted that all of you have been participating appropriately." She looked at Téa. "You have her latest report?"

"Yes, thank you. It was very thorough and she concluded the arrangement was successful and should continue."

Judge Delaney raised her eyebrows at the prosecutor.

"Your Honor, despite the pretty picture Ms. Grant paints along with the counselor, I received both a verbal notification and a police report that on Tuesday, the 8th, a mere week and a half ago that at approximately 2:40 p.m. Mr. Manning was seen conspicuously stopped in his car on Llanview Boulevard in _very_ close proximity to a commonly-known drug area. A police authority had to talk to him to get him to move."

The judge peered over her glasses at Téa who tried her best not to reveal the sinking feeling she had. _So obscured._ The prosecutor went on, though, not allowing Téa to say anything.

"The report I received further indicates Mr. Manning's conduct was suspicious, that he was perspiring unusually heavy for the cold weather and was extremely rude. The officer let him go though for lack of evidence to support any breaking of any laws."

"Mr. Washington, Llanview Boulevard is close to 16th Street for quite a distance. I drive it all the time and even stop occasionally but that doesn't make me a crack-pot."

The prosecutor cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly, with his arms crossed. "You mean, crack- _head_ , your Honor. Not to mention that Mr. Manning has no history of crack use."

"Thank you for the correction but whether any drug user is a crack-head or a crack-pot might be up for argument. Go on with the merits of the matter—and I hope there's more to this because right now I'm tempted to sanction you for wasting my time as well as the time of Ms. Delgado-Manning."

"There's more…you have to understand that Mr. Manning wasn't parked just anywhere on Llanview Boulevard but near the corner of Green and Llanview which is a clean shot to the riskiest section of Sixteenth Street. Additionally…" The prosecutor fussed with some papers and then asked, "May I approach?"

"Yes."

Washington handed the clerk a document, the clerk then giving it to the judge. After some moments of perusal, Honorable Delaney asked, "Ms. Delgado-Manning, has Mr. Manning missed any program meetings you know of?"

Téa swallowed hard—her stomach lurched. The judge would never ask a question she didn't already know the answer to. Finally, she shook her head, "I'm not specifically aware of any dates of meetings he may have missed."

"Well, according to this affidavit by the drug program director at Llanview Hospital, George Puddingstone, Mr. Manning missed two meetings this week, a group substance abuse meeting and a one-on-one. Mr. Washington, please hand a copy to the counselor."

Téa read the paper over and her heart just broke…Todd had begged off the meetings claiming illness. But he hadn't told her anything about illness other than last night which meant…he lied? No, there had to be a mistake…she couldn't have missed signs, signals…

 _Don't panic…_

"Your Honor, this is the first I've heard of the incident on Llanview Boulevard—and the missed meetings. I can only assume there was nothing spectacular about either situation. If this had been the start of something which _was_ threatening to the stability of our home, I believe Mr. Manning would have mentioned such things to me. He'd have asked for my help. And I believe I'd have seen evidence at home and I haven't. He has shown no signs of relapse."

 _Has he?_

The judge chuckled, "Are you trying to tell me your husband, a known drug user, an ex-convict with a rap sheet the thickness of several New York steaks, wouldn't _lie_? That he wouldn't cover up the signs so you wouldn't see them?"

Several people in the courtroom chuckled as well. Téa ignored the ridiculousness of her own supposition, desperate to not hit the ground, desperate to grab onto anything… anything to preserve the high-wire act.

"Yes, I'm saying that. You might think it's funny, but I know how committed he is to the living situation and I know he won't put Jed at risk. He's working very hard. Mr. Manning undergoes weekly drug testing and so far he's been clean. We're fine. And about the affidavit…I have no idea who this Puddingstone is, and I have no reason to believe he's telling the truth. Throw on top of that a police department which has become sickeningly biased in their obsessive need to condemn Mr. Manning for…what was it? "Perspiring"? Well, let's just say I'm not inclined to believe the supposed police report either. Which I haven't seen by the way. In my opinion, the only one trustworthy is Todd Manning. Not to mention that I see the proof in the pudding: Jed's current success."

The prosecutor handed the clerk and Téa a document. The police report. Téa now realized she was calling into question the veracity of the patrol officer… Bo Buchanan.

 _Goddamnit_.

The judge shook her head, "Ms. Delgado-Manning, while I admire your passion, unfortunately the county has provided me with sufficient information to justify further investigation. We need formal psychological evaluations and home checks. We'll have to hold this over for a full hearing."

The judge read over the file, managing an appearance of compassion as she delivered something she knew would have harsh impact.

"In the meantime, I don't believe Jedediah should remain in your custody. And unfortunately, because Mr. Manning is also related to all the family Jedediah has in Llanview, we're out of immediate options. I recommend he be sent to the juvenile detention facility until better arrangements can be made."

"No!"

"I'm sorry, but there are no options at this point. He needs to be removed immediately and there are no beds in our lesser security places. I've spent an entire morning with children having to be sent to Juvie because of the current situation. Llanview seems to be infused with a disease of neglectful parents. If it's any consolation, Jedediah will only remain at the facility until such time alternative arrangements can be made which are satisfactory to the social worker and Mr. Washington. And if all goes well at the full hearing, everything will be back to normal." She paused to remove her glasses. "And let's not forget, Jedediah's history is almost as insufferable as Mr. Manning's—so it's not as if he'll be damaged by a little discipline for a few hours or a few days." She glanced at her wall calendar. "As far as the formal hearing on continued custody goes, let's set that for thirty days from today, at the same time…"

"Your honor, please, I'm pleading here…his aunt Victoria Carpenter can take him right away, his cousin, Kevin Buchanan, can take him, too. There has to be an alternative to the facility. This'll create untold damage to all the improvement Jed's made—even if it's for the shortest time! And you're suggesting thirty days! Please, let's not risk all the good he's accomplished!"

"Mr. Manning's connections with the family prevents us from using them right now. I want those two as far apart from each other as possible."

"Well, Mr. Manning can leave right away…he can go to the Buchanan household or his sister's home—and Jed will stay with me."

The prosecutor interrupted, "Doesn't…" he glanced down at some papers, "Doesn't Brandy Night live with Mrs. Carpenter? Isn't she a contributor to Mr. Manning's drug use?"

"I'm sure that can be changed."

"Which will take time," the judge said.

"And the Buchanans are out because Kevin is Victoria's son and has contact with Jedediah…it's all just too close," Washington added.

"Todd will get his own place, your Honor, he can stay at a hotel in the next city. Please, I'm begging you…this will set Jedediah God-only-knows how far back. This isn't in his best interest…and that's the standard we need to be following."

"No need to tell me what standard we have to follow, Counselor. A move out of the residence until we can resolve the matter _is_ in Mr. Chant's best interest." She sighed, wearing a severe expression. "I won't sugar coat this…I was strongly opposed to the living arrangement in the first place so any hint _at all_ that your husband is abusing drugs again is all I need to move Jedediah. It's in my opinion that every second Mr. Manning spends in the child's presence is dangerous to the child. And everything you suggest takes time, meaning more time Mr. Manning is in the child's vicinity. The child needs to be removed until we can confirm positively that Mr. Manning is free of drugs and indeed everything is going as nicely as you say it is. I'm sorry, but from what Mr. Washington is presenting, there's reason to suspect a change is occurring with Mr. Manning and it's not a good one."

The prosecutor nodded assuredly, "Thank you, your Honor. We'll send a car to pick Jedediah up no later than 12:00 today. That should provide enough time to gather his things."

The judge agreed, but Téa objected again, "Your honor, can you at least give us until this evening to try to locate another place for him to stay? There's additional family who's not close to Mr. Manning, my family for instance."

"In Angel Square?"

"Yes…"

"Angel Square isn't acceptable."

"I have friends as well…"

"I'm afraid not, and I'm out of patience. atter closed. Okay, number 16 is off-calendar, which puts us to number 17, Pennsylvania versus Jackson Lelani. Counselors, make your appearance."

Téa said nothing further…picking up her briefcase, being on the verge of tears and a temper tantrum. She stepped out of the way and made for the exit. It was 9:30 a.m.…Jedediah was going to be devastated. Today was a day-off of school…a conference day for the teachers. He'd been so happy to kick back even inviting Summer over to have breakfast. Spending even one hour in that place would wreck him, much less a few days or a week. Much less thirty days. He was too fragile, still dealing with so much hurt.

"Oh Jedediah…oh damn it."

 _Will you still love me if I don't make it?_

She wasn't sure of her answer anymore. If Todd relapsed, she was pretty sure she'd hate him as much as Jedediah had been hating him.

* * *

He was falling, tumbling headlong into the abyss people had warned him about, Tim especially. He quit the methadone cold-turkey. Stopped taking it two days ago. Todd groaned as he dropped to his knees, gripped the edge of the toilet, and vomited the water he'd tried to drink. He was doing this for Jed so he could go to West Virginia and find Michelle Chant.

 _Liar, liar, pants on fire._

He collapsed on the tiles next to the bowl, shivering and sweaty. Last night the sickness started and this morning it shifted into high gear. So far he'd been lucky—nobody seemed to have noticed. The program counselors must have been too swamped to report his non-appearance for the methadone and the substance abuse meetings he'd skipped. Nobody had called him. He just couldn't go to the hospital for those meetings. Everyone would see through him, see his intent, and he didn't want anyone on his case about it. So he called in sick. Took a drive. Past the Sun, past some parks…

 _You can take the tiger out the jungle, but you can't take the jungle out of the tiger._

Suddenly burning hot, he ripped off his tee-shirt, leaving him in his sweatpants. Then he got cold again and put the shirt back on. Hot, cold, hot, cold…how much longer would this last? He'd never totally kicked heroin—so he didn't know. He heard a week…or two. The thing is, he always ended up fixing before or got on methadone.

Yeah, that's right… _insurance._

Then, as much as he fought it, before he could stop it, the thought formed in his head…pure, whole, complete…

 _Drip, drop…jack it back and see the blood…now push. Ha ha ha ha…open the cupboard..._

He cried at the unstoppable want growing in the pit of his belly and drew up his knees, covering his ears with his hands, moving them to his watering eyes and runny nose—there was no way he'd be able to hide this. Téa would worry, they all would. They'd not let him fucking breathe and their fears would suffocate his effort. Tim would definitely want him in a residence program. And yet, he wanted to think they'd not do that, that everyone would believe in him—they'd all trust him.

He suddenly got overwhelmed by a need for Téa. Maybe if he'd turn to her, just maybe he'd not feel sick, maybe just being with her would kill the wishes to go to back. Maybe…maybe he'd grow up and stop playing make-believe with that kind of bullshit talk.

Because he _was_ with her. They made love every night and it had been the most amazing thing ever and still he bought the dope and all the works and now he was puking into the toilet.

What the fuck was he doing?

He had three choices: kick the current habit cold turkey all the way through, go to the clinic for a methadone dose, or go back to heroin. Shit, shit, shit. The last, though…that would be end of everything. No, he couldn't do it. Just two options then.

 _Yes, you can—it's why you bought the insurance. Went to two different parks to find even more._

Not an option…he should throw it away. He should open the cupboard…reach back…and throw it away. Throw it _all_ away. Then he'd not be so tortured with getting off the methadone.

 _Oooo…open the doors…open it up…to…ummm… flush the dope down the toilet…yeah…yeah…open it up. Take it out. Watch the powder tumble out. Just to see it will make the hell palatable, my sweet, my angel._

 _Go ahead…open the cupboard._

The options jumped back to three.

 _That's right…make it an option. You want to do it—you must have made up your mind to do it when you engaged that guy in conversation outside the clinic. Must have really made up your mind when you drove to the park and followed the guy who'd hissed a secret to you. You knew what you were doing when you walked into the park restroom, paid him cash, shoving everything deep into your pockets. So secretive! Like a super spy! You must have made up your mind… when you stuck the package into the cupboard, deeply, plainly._

 _And hid the rest._

Aching, he stood and glanced at his ugly reflection in the mirror—god, what he saw. He wiped slimy liquid off his chin which caused him to gag. To settle himself, he washed his face, brushed his teeth, finding the cold water relieving. When he looked once more at his reddened eyes, at the dark circles beneath, at his stringy hair, when a pain shot through his right leg straight into his gut, he heard a silky-smooth voice…a promising one:

 _One shot, baby, that's all you'd need. And now that you've dumped the methadone, you're going to feel it. You're going to be in heaven again. Paradise._

"Oh hell…" He craved whiskey, thinking the alcohol would take the edge off. He had a desire to masturbate, thinking the momentary pleasure would bring some relief. He wanted to stretch his muscles like he did in gym class when he was young to work out the cramps, but he'd have to stretch them beyond their limit, he'd have to rip them apart they hurt so bad. He wanted to curl up under a blanket, to take a swim in a cold pool of water, to eat a Snicker's bar, to take a bite out of a loaf of bread, plastic bag and all, and…and…

… he wished he could put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.

He should call someone…he needed help. He should throw the shit away. If only the voices would stop. He tore open the buttons of his jeans and stuck his hand down to grab his dick. He started stroking because that helped, it's what Brandy would do. He held the counter with one hand, holding himself up, and jerked himself. Stroke, stroke, stroke. Faster. Tighter. Thought of Téa at first, but then that seemed wrong because she was pure and everything from her was love and heat that reached into his heart and this, _this was hell._ Brandy then. Think of Brandy. Her mouth. Her hand. The needle in her hand.

 _No no no no…. not that, not that._

He breathed fast as he stroked himself. He was really hard now and he was moving quickly towards coming. It was good, relieving. He tipped his head back, hearing his own ragged breaths. His knee pressed against the cupboard door. All the pain faded as he worked his dick.

Suddenly, he thought of another mouth, another hand. A vision of himself as he lay on his back on a rotten mattress and in the vision someone has their mouth on him, going at it. He could just feel it and it's so slick and so good and they don't have a needle. A voice breaks through though. A hand now works him and it's good too. And the voice says, _touch me too, yeah, like that… oh yeah, like that… oh fuck… oh fuck, yeah, rub my cock… yeah oh man… fuckin' god, keep doing that…_

He shuddered, his whole body seizing at the come, and he watched the semen spill on the counter. He let go, huffing, momentarily relieved. Both hands holding himself up. He cried. He didn't know what he was doing at Toby's, why. He couldn't tell anyone. Didn't tell anyone. Didn't know why it came so easy… no, that's not true. He was taught. Peter taught him how. He slapped a hand to his mouth and sobbed as he slipped to the floor. He cried until he couldn't anymore.

 _Forgiveness, forgiveness._

Getting on his knees, he pulled open the cupboard and reached into the back. Pulled the plastic baggie out, cradling the thing to his chest. Throw it away, he said to himself.

 _Throw everything away…the latex strip, the needle, the dope, the cotton ball, the tiny cup he used to mix the shot up. Oh god…oh god…throw it away…_

The stamp-sized bag of dope made its way out of the bag, falling onto the floor. Todd lay on the floor to look at it, to watch, to study the way it just sat there. He fingered the paper, ran a fingernail across its width and length. He gasped to suppress a wracking sob and picked everything up, throwing it back into the cupboard.

"Fuck you! Fuck…YOU!"

He promised Jed that he wouldn't do it HERE. That he would leave.

But he needed to be better, today of all days. Kevin had postponed meeting with Todd last week, but told him he'd do it today. Todd wanted to know what Kevin knew about Michelle, whether he'd learned anything about her other than finding Jedediah. Today…today…he'd learn more. Today, he'd be able to do something for Jedediah… _today_.

 _That's a good excuse…you need to be well for a meeting. Hahahahaha! Just use it already._

A loud knocking on the bathroom door drew his attention away from himself. More than a knocking, it was a hammering and he almost thought the person would break down the door. He could even see the door giving way, bulging, beating like a wooden, bloodless heart. He was sweating and he could hardly see for the pain.

 _Thum-thump, thum-thump, thum-thump…_

 _Todd? You okay? I thought I heard you getting sick._

He recognized Téa's voice…but she didn't stop there. She went on…

 _Hey, Manning, ya' sick bastard, ya' sick heroin-addicted bastard who ought to burn in hell for all the things ya' done and for what you're about to do. Ohhhh…forgive me my harsh words, dearest Lord. Oh hail Mary, mother of God, bless the burned and beaten child for his glorious, abominable, endless sin—sin that never ends, sin that's been born unto him, sin that will live and die by him, sin of the mountains, sea, desert and the greenest of earths. Blood-engorged sin…_

Todd shook his head at the condemning words, at the fact that it wasn't actually Téa. The voice sounded like hers and when he glanced toward the door, he thought he could see her press her cool forehead against the door—like Superman, he had x-ray vision. Yeah, he could see everything. Her fingers drummed softly, but after some seconds they were pounding, non-rhythmically, causing helter-skelter noise, loud, so damn loud. He pulled off his shirt again and tapped his chest with an open palm a couple of times to make sure his heart kept beating because he was sure it was about to stop.

 _Toooooddddd_! She sang his name. So strange, so unlike her. _What's wrong in there, amor?_

"A flu, I think," he croaked. No way was that Téa and no way was the real Téa going to buy that he had a flu. Yet he couldn't handle her worry if he told her the truth…her concern would fly at him, scratch his eyes bloody. He'd be reminded that failure was just around the corner. But what? Did he think he'd _earned_ her confidence? He pulled himself up, ran fingers around the sink, chasing watery beads, swishing the heroin-hungry come that streaked the counter. Turning on the water, he splashed his face again. Watched the water drip, drop, drip, drop off. Cleaned up the mess he made. He'd like to say he buttoned his jeans but he didn't. He might have to masturbate again for more relief. He hoped Toby's shit wouldn't pop into his head again.

 _Open the door,_ she said softly, ghostly. Now that sounded like Brandy…and oh god, she'd love him in her way… she'd tie him off, mix it up for him, and find a good vein. His whole body seized with restraint. No, he couldn't open the door because if he did he'd be throwing everything away. But the thought was irresistible. He could practically feel the latex around his arm, the pinch of the point right into his vein, the smashing high he'd get…. _oh god_ …it was so close.

All he had to do was open the cupboard door…

The stress and heat of the room made his bowels cramp, made him want to retch again. He inhaled deeply…and finally, he had to give in, vomiting right into the sink. Coughing, sputtering, tears splashing into the yellow mixture. He twisted the faucet to clean up. Then he realized he never locked the door and Téa was right next to him. He shut his eyes to the look of horror on her face. What bothered him more, however, was the clothes she was wearing. Peeking through narrowed eyes, he could make out greenish pants with bright orange stripes running downward, starting at the crotch. She looked like an alien skunk and he laughed out loud at the explosion of psychedelic nonsense. The wildness hurt his eyes, though, and he pouted because the pain in his legs was tearing him up.

 _Oh my god…,_ she sighed, _You look…you look horrible._

"You have to help me…I can't stop myself…it's right here, it's right here…"

He reached for her, except she floated away, saying, _It's not possible…you can't use while you're on methadone. You've been so good to me, to us, you're so strong, especially when you fuck me. Do you want to fuck Todd? I want to fuck. A lot._ Her voice echoed, pinged about the room. Todd cowered a little because he was afraid the voice would hit him, blind him.

"I'm not using—yet…"

 _You're strung out! No wonder you've been such a good lover, it's all drugs in your system. No wonder…how could I have been so stupid? You disgust me, you moron. Let's fuck._

"No, Téa …no, you don't understand." The words could barely come out.

 _Liar, liar, pants on fire—you're itching to feel the rush blow your mind to kingdom come._

"Shut up…!"

Then he heard a real voice break through the crazy.

"Oh babe, this is a methadone withdrawal, it's why he's talking crazy shit. It's worse than heroin. Mr. Manning, you hear me? Can you situp?" The person looked down at him and smiled. She turned and said, "Hey, go get me my phone." Then she muttered to Todd, "Let me get these buttons, don't want you all exposed like this." She was working the denim, trying to pull the two sides together to re-button them and he got scared at that. He wasn't sure who she was exactly. Was it Téa? Was it Brandy? Who cared? He needed her. At least it _was_ a her. He grabbed her hand… stared hard 'cause desperate times calls for desperate measures. And he could tell through the mad haze that she knew exactly what he wanted…

 _Jerk me off. Please make me feel better._

Summer and Jed had heard him vomiting. Jed had looked at her and hissed, "Shit…" They opened the door and he was hunched over the toilet and then he was on the floor and muttering about Téa and colors and begging for someone to understand him and that he couldn't explain why. She saw him quite exposed; Jedediah didn't. Summer was worldly enough to know what some people did to relieve withdrawals. After she chased Jed out of the bathroom she made sure to button those buttons. She didn't get offended by his obvious request, didn't really think he knew who she was at the moment. She said softly, "Hey, that's a real temporary solution to big problem. It's not worth the trouble."

Todd groaned in pain and let her go and she finished the job of buttoning him up.

Jed returned to the bathroom and dropped the phone next to her. "He's gotta be strung out. This is heroin. He's probably been using this entire time."

"Please," Todd tried to say, "…I'm not strung out. I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay. I shoulda told you." The words though were halting and he wasn't sure that was what he was saying exactly. He knew he was hallucinating and that Téa hadn't been here at all but he couldn't see who _was_ here. He reached up and grabbed the shirt of whoever to get a better look, to know what the fuck was happening.

"Ow ow, let go Mr. Manning," she laughed, "You got my hair…"

Someone hit him for real. "Let her go, you fucker!"

He pulled his hands back and knew he was puking again into the toilet.

"Oh Jesus fucking CHRIST."

"Jed, cool your jets."

"Well how fucking stupid is he?! If you're right and this is methadone… he can't just quit! He's not ready…does Tim know, Pops? What about your sponsor? You should have called your sponsor…that's what he's there for. Did you talk to anyone about it?"

 _Pops. Oh it's Jed. Oh it's Summer. Oh Jesus Christ._

Todd huffed and mumbled more words that were clearer in his head than coming out of his mouth. "No," he tried to say, "...but there's a reason, okay?"

 _Liar, you just wanted to get high again and needed an excuse to stop the methadone. You know Tim and your sponsor will see right through your bullshit. You're relapsing, dude. REALLY TRULY. So get up…you're going to blow it anyway…so you might as well just do what you want. If you're gonna go down, go all the fuckin' way._

"I think I got some of that - you're stupid for doing this, do you hear me?!"

"Shut the fuck up," he then argued, trying to see Jed but haze making it impossible.

"Jed, stop, this isn't the time to be all aggravated! We need to call someone."

Ahhh… definitely Jed throwing all the hate his way and Jed who now growled, "You fuckin' _liar_. I knew you were gonna do this. I just knew it."

The disappointment was loud. Todd said nothing, shrink-wrapping himself up in the warm air and blanketing space, blinking his eyes to clear the sting. He began to cry because someone's face was in _his_ face and it looked something like Peter's face now and Phillip's and he was so scared and he could see the knife sticking out of Phillip's chest and could see the leather around his throat, squeezing so hard the eyes bulged out…but even so, he still wanted to feel loved…and wanted to make love to Téa again…or…maybe if she wouldn't have him, he'd go to Brandy…and if not her either then he just wanted a hug from his mother or Viki or Blair or Starr or or or …

Maybe he just wanted to die…

 _Or maybe he just needed to open the cupboard._

 **To be continued….**


	6. Chapter 6

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 6**

Cold water splashed onto him and so did reality. When he blinked back the water, he saw he was still in the bathroom next to a pool of sick and he was staring at a beyond-furious Jed and a worried Summer. _Summer_. Oh Jesus, that's right. It was her hand he'd grabbed earlier, her hand he was hoping would help him out. He scrunched up against the wall, horrified, muttering, "Get the fuck outta here…"

"You okay?" Summer asked, tentatively. "We've been trying to rouse you…"

"I'm sick—trying to kick methadone and the only thing that's getting kicked is my ass."

"Yeah," Jed groused, "you said that."

Summer held back on laughing at Todd's dark sense of humor but Jed shook his head. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed while Todd closed his eyes again, grunting unconsciously as he contended with muscle spasms.

"Do you have a number for someone we can call, like your doctor?" Summer asked.

"You know what, Summer, don't bother. He knows numbers. If he really wanted help, he would have reached out. And me, personally, I really don't give a shit right now."

Todd started to throw up again and turned to the toilet.

"Téa's gonna freak," Jed grumbled. "I tried to tell her. Thought she was thinking too much of how 'good' he was."

"Well, they're having sex so you can imagine that she'd be a little… hopeful."

Jed stopped. "Huh?"

"They're sleeping together, hon. Téa is bound have rose-colored glasses. It's natural."

"How the fuck do you know that?"

She smiled. "I saw it in the way she touched him… they were really close on the couch the other night. That was romance. They're smitten."

"Oh fuck… well not smitten enough. You asshole. Sleeping with her and now you do this?!"

"Where is she again, babe?" Jed was bugged by Summer's tender treatment of Todd. She was moving his hair out of his face, trying to get it into a ponytail. At last she twisted it… tied it up with itself. Jed couldn't watch. Todd didn't deserve it, least of all from Jed's own lover.

"She had an early court thing," he spat. "But she should have stayed here."

"Maybe some weed'd help?"

Jed looked exasperated. "Are you out of your mind? You want me to go to jail?"

"Well…if you got caught. But you're not gonna…and what, like you've been so pure, Rasta Man?"

Jedediah threw her an expression of indignation, "Shut up…I'm tested all the time." He glanced down at the floor, tapped his boot against the tiles.

Summer tskd at him. "Tested, huh? With your _own_ urine?"

A conspicuous silence followed.

"Come on, give it up…it might make him feel a little better." She turned and looked at Todd, who'd opened his eyes… and was looking through her, not quite focusing, not quite listening. He kept mumbling for them to leave him alone, to get out. They didn't know he needed… _privacy_.

"Oh man," she said, "this really _is_ kicking his ass. Jed, I really believe a little weed would help."

"Summer! What's the matter with you? Even if I agreed, don't you know it's not a good idea to give drugs to a goddamn drug addict! Jesus! And while I'm at it…why the hell do you care so much anyway?!"

Huffily, Jed wet a towel and tried to clean up a little around Todd, getting in between Todd and Summer. The edges of sympathy sprouted up around him because Todd looked at him as he did that and Jed could see how badly he was suffering, could suddenly see how difficult the past months had been, but he did his best to quash them. He didn't feel like being nice or kind to Todd who just…who was such a pain…who caused so much heartache to everyone. And he really didn't want his lover being nice either. Todd didn't deserve any part of her.

"This is gross…the hell am I doing?"

"It's not that bad…god, you exaggerate. Besides," Summer said smartly, "It could be worse. He could've shit himself."

"Oh my god."

She laughed a little, "It's true," and then stopped, saying gently to Todd, "You poor guy."

"Oh please…he asked for this. But I didn't."

"I know, I know. My own words. But I feel sorry for him. And he looks like you… and if this was you, my heart would be torn to pieces."

Jed said in a serious tone, "This'll never be me." Then he glared at Todd. "I'd rather slit my throat."

"Whatever," Todd said raggedly, sounding like his old self, "then why you in here? Get out—just leave me alone, you little shit." He could barely get the words out, swatting the air in Jed's direction. Jed had an uncomfortable sense that Todd meant to hit him.

"I ought to slit _your_ throat." Jed got up, tossing the dirty towel right at Todd who just looked at the soiled towel on his belly.

"Jed, come on! He's sick…," Summer urged, getting to her feet and pulling at Jed's arm. "Maybe we _should_ leave him alone."

"No…I want to watch him suffer."

"Why are you so angry, babe?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Yes, I am."

"'Cause he's a goddamn addict and this is the kind of shit they pull." He folded his arms, a tangle of worry, concern, hatred, anger, and love…"Why _are_ you so sick?"

"Told you…" Todd groaned.

"Yeah, yeah, the methadone, but why this way? I don't get it. You don't do 'sick' very well and you had to know this would happen. I mean…isn't the methadone for the specific purpose of avoiding 'sick'?" He settled back against the counter, looking out the bathroom…listening for sounds, for Téa. He checked his watch, and twisted his mouth in contemplation. "What could possibly be worth all this pain?"

Todd murmured, "Why…why…why do the birds sing? Why do the flowers grow in a field of bloom?" Closing his eyes, he moaned softly.

Jed thought to ask anyway, "You want something to smoke? Summer thinks it'll help you feel better."

Todd shook his head, making an expression as if Jed had asked him to eat dirt.

"Guess if you can't shoot it, you don't want it," Jed snapped.

"Whatever…God, I'm so cold. Going to bed." He tried to get up, but couldn't seem to get himself off the floor. So Jed and Summer helped him to his feet and he went back into the room. Falling onto the bed, he crawled under the covers. He couldn't get warm, though, and curled up as tightly as he could. Then the pain in his legs wouldn't let him lie still, so he uncurled and then curled up again. He covered his head in misery…all the wants and desires of the past year crawled about him, like ants. He couldn't have Jed in here, couldn't look at those sorrowful eyes. He needed the kids out….

… and he needed to get to the cupboard. He did…he really needed it.

 _It's so close. Shoo the kids away…shoo, fly, shoo._

Jed plopped onto the edge of the bed, Summer leaving the room.

 _One down, one to go._

"Come on, Pops, out with it. What's up?"

Todd peered at Jed from beneath the comforter, "Where's Téa?"

"I told you, she's at a court thing."

"What about?" Todd turned over, shaking terribly, trying to warm up again. Turned back over. Rubbed his legs, his arms. He tried to pay attention to Jed, but it was so hard.

Jed looked down, "Me."

"Me, what?"

"Me…me…ME! Téa's at court on something about me! You're making me hate you, you know!"

"I thought you already did."

"Fuck!"

"What happened?"

He shrugged, "I don't know."

Too sick to respond or really question it, Todd just nodded, "I'm sure it's nothing." He shivered furiously. Then, after some moments, he said in a quiet voice, "I'm going to West Virginia. It's why I need to get off the stupid drug."

"What?"

"You heard me." Todd groaned into the pillow, not knowing what to do. Wondering how to get Jed out of the room. Because he was done…yeah….he'd made up his mind.

"What for?"

"To find your mom." He kicked off the covers, moaning and rubbing his legs…wishing for the pain to go away. He stole a glance at Jed…waiting for some reaction. He pulled the covers back on. Freezing again.

Jed was silent, stunned. Then, "I wanna go."

Todd peeked out from under the covers again, sheepishly, "How can you go if you want to kill me?"

"Shut up…so…you believe me, then? You think she's still alive?"

"I don't know….yeah, maybe."

Jed smiled bigger than Todd had ever remembered seeing. "Stop…you'll hurt yourself with that kind of joy." He wanted to smile along with him, tease him. He tried to hide the intense hurt but couldn't and went ahead and just cried. Sniffling, he warned Jed, "Don't tell Téa anything."

"That's impossible… you're messed up good and _plenty_. And what's she gonna say about you splitting?"

"She'll worry but I have to do this. It's for you…for me. I'll tell her I have the flu—I'll be fine by the time I take off anyway. And Jed, throw the weed away. All we're going through, man… and you're still smoking? And passing off whose piss for the tests? God…what a mess. It's all so fucking hopeless…" He started to cry again.

Jed looked away, guilt rushing through him. But he got defensive…answering in an icy tone, "Weed won't kill me—it's not hurting anybody."

"Whatever… who the hell am I to say shit to you, huh? I'm out…just…out. I'm gonna be sick." He got up and limped to the door of the bathroom. He hesitated, hanging onto the door itself… saying something unintelligible under his breath. He turned and gazed at Jed for a second too long, with a kind of sadness that turned Jed's stomach. Then he closed the door…

… and locked it.

 _Heaven…paradise…bless the sins of the blood and brain!_

The clicking sound of the lock froze Jed's heart. Todd made a point of never locking doors, never fully closing his bedroom door. It was his thing… he did this just for Jed, just for Téa, he sacrificed a certain level of general privacy for them. And here he was, locking the bathroom door. Locking…locking…Jed shut the alarms blasting inside of him…shut them down quick because he couldn't deal with it. _No, no, no,_ …stewed instead. Sunk into being kinda pissed at Summer for opening her big mouth about the weed, a little wounded that she did. While he never actually told her he'd been cheating on the urine, she didn't have any right to air her suspicions like that. Wondered why she did it. He needed cannabis, he just did, and he thought she understood. They'd spent hours and hours talking about the harmlessness of marijuana, its helpfulness. They didn't get the big deal with it…it's not heroin, or cocaine, or ecstasy or any of the really bad stuff. Not even as bad as alcohol.

And yet…Summer spilled what she thought in front of Todd…

 _He locked the door._

"It's nothing," he said to himself, fighting an urge to smoke just to get back at everyone. Stupid. He focused on his mom to switch gears because that made him happy. Sorta. He'd have to go with Todd…that was all there was to it. The guy wouldn't make it without Jed there to watch his back, to make sure he stayed clean. Yeah…because Todd would be clean…not using, not at all…

 _No, no, no, he did not just lock the door._

Jed heard a thump come from the bathroom… and he got up… and tried the door. Oh it was locked alright. "Todd? Pops?"

After a moment…a soft voice came back, "Yeah…"

"You okay? Thought I heard something…"

"Fine…gonna…get in the shower."

Jed leaned on the door to listen…heard Todd move around. An eerie quiet followed. No shower.

"You're making me nervous—what are you doing in there?" Jed tried the door again as if it could change by magic…tried to open it but it wouldn't give. Goddamn lock.

Todd threw up again…noisily. Another thump…as if Todd had fallen.

"You okay? You need anything?" Jed asked, leaning forward on the door. Listening…so hard. "Pops?"

"Get the fuck outta here." His words were soft and fuzzy.

And Jed knew.

"I can't…," he said, his voice full of hurt. Todd had just shot up heroin.

"Shhh…don't worry… " The voice trailed and then there was only quiet. Jed could almost feel the relief, the peace, the sense of _accomplishment_.

He pounded on the door, pounded hard… "Don't you do anything stupid!" He was the stupid one. It was too late to be asking that now. The quiet in the bathroom was loud and horrifying. Todd did what he swore he wouldn't do. Shoot up _here_. He didn't go to a motel, didn't go to park bathroom, didn't go to Brandy's place or anywhere else in the world. He did it in his own goddamn bathroom with his kid outside the door.

Jed held back the hurt because he didn't want to be a baby about this because he knew the facts because he read all the literature and heard all the lectures and he was a big boy about things and he could handle anything that came his way. Life is just bad…and bad is inevitable and everyone has their demons and at some point they can't fight them anymore. And if it leads to the person dying…well, so what? As long as Jed stayed the path…that's all that counted.

Jed sniffled back bitter tears. "I'm too late, huh? I'm too late… you stupid, stupid fuck," he cried before hitting the unmovable door repeatedly with his closed fist. Making his knuckles bleed and leaving a bloody imprint. He hated Todd…he hated everything and everybody. "I hope you fucking die in there!"

Jed turned to go to his own room, to pack…because he was getting the hell out of here just like Todd wanted but Summer stopped him in his tracks, saying somberly, "Téa's on her way home, babe. She sounded pretty serious, said for you not to go anywhere." Her eyes went to his damaged fist, her eyes on his.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He dosed up."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. Right the fuck now. I'm so outta here." He tried to walk past her, but she held onto his arm.

"Break the cycle, Jed."

Light from the windows captured the red in Summer's hair, pretty as a sun's red, blood red, as the red in a fox's fur. Her skin was soft as satin, her sweater emphasizing all her delicious curves, the ones that made Jed's heart beat fast…the ones which were the sweetest coverings to her essence, her heart…the one that made him want to love her forever. He could have fallen into her eyes…the ones that glistened with understanding.

"Babe? Why didn't you tell me the hearing this morning was about the custody?"

"Because it doesn't matter…because I'm done and I want outta here. I'm feeling that thing again, where I can't sit still and I can't stand the thought of anyone telling me what to do and…uh…I don't want to hear what Téa's gonna tell me…and…," he motioned towards the bathroom, "and _him_. And his shit… and how every time I think he really gives a damn, I learn he doesn't."

She tried to touch him, to comfort him, but he shied away…"Go home, okay?"

Her eyes grew teary at his retreat and she breathed in deeply to control her emotions. "Téa will be here," she said, "…things will be alright. I love you and don't you forget that. And know that I respect you and whatever choices you make. Whatever you do, I'm here, okay? Whatever it is. You know my number…I'm here." She held onto his bloody hand, caressing it as if she could heal his hurts with just a touch. "Shift your thoughts," she whispered. "Shift the energy around you by making another move, rather than the one you always do. Think, babe…think before you walk."

He reached for her…and kissed her…to shut her up, to taste her words, tasting her tears instead. "I know all those things. I love you, too."

"Careful," she said before walking away quickly…footsteps tapping down the stairs, the shutting of the front door. Jed sank to the floor in the hallway, feeling a bit lost, a bit determined, really pissed…a bit of everything. He listened to hear if Todd emerged from the bathroom. Ready for him. He inhaled all he could…because that was it. When Todd got out, he was going to get it. Really, really get it.

Some time later, he heard Todd shuffle out of the bathroom. Jed got up and went to the bedroom. He saw Todd standing at the dresser without any clothes on. He searched the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of sweats. Held them in his hand. When he turned around, Jed was facing him.

"What?"

With that, Jed hauled back and with his closed bloody fist, with everything in him, he pounded Todd hard on the side of his head, making him fall against the dresser and hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. Had to hurt. Todd lay there for a minute or so, rubbing where he'd been hit. He then sniffed and sat up, saying softly, "You think I like being this way?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Well, bully for you."

He still had the sweat pants in his hands. He put them on…slowly. He got to his feet and walked to his bed, sliding under the sheets. Todd was quieter now, less miserable. He sighed… _a lot_. And then he seemed to fall asleep. The twitching was less, the jerking of his muscles…less. God…the nerve, the nerve to shoot up right here…and just as Todd said, after all they'd gone through. All those goddamn promises.

Jed plopped onto a chair in the corner of the room, finding himself stuck, unable to move. As if something bad would happen if he did move. He was so scared of so many things. And so beyond-angry. He wished Todd was dead. He was angry at Phillip Manning and that Peter. His mind drifted…to that day in the underground…the feel of Todd behind him…in the dark…asking for forgiveness…a prayer…and then the image of a man being strangled to death…stabbed to death.

 _He'll never hurt you again, Jed._

 _Superman. You're my hero. With your very own kryptonite._

If someone as powerful as Todd couldn't beat this thing, what chance did Jed have?

 _Shhhh…he believes in you. No matter what._

Todd's cell phone rang a good number of times. He never answered. The phone rang again and again. Finally, he rolled over and picked up the phone. He sniffed and said, "Yeah." He lay on his back with his eyes closed. Jed listened to the short comments, the staggering effort at covering up his high. Something told Jed it was Téa on the phone. Todd opened his eyes, grumbling, "What?" There was no way Téa didn't know. No goddamn way. Todd asked, "You there?" He looked at his phone and put it back to his ear. He cursed…and then sighed… and then cursed again, his voice ragged and soft. He turned the phone off.

Jedediah knew that whatever happened in court was bad—just like he thought it would be. He gazed at the fibers in the carpet, studying them…he felt like he was five years old. He didn't know why.

"Sorry," Todd said to him, his voice still ragged, still airy. He was on his back still and his eyes were closed. "I screwed up. Those bastards jus' take it out on my family. Sorry. I wasn't thinking… jus' me…my fucking…ideas…dishonest, full-of-shit ideas…"

Jed lifted his eyes, looking at Todd who then said, "Cops'll be here at noon to take you to the detention facility. My fault, all my fault. Nothing you did wrong, un'erstand?"

And with that, Jed fell apart. He got to his feet, eyes wide in horror.

"Don't make me go, Pops…I'll give up weed, I'll be really good…and won't curse anymore…and I won't be mean to you…and I'll not see anybody I'm not supposed to…and I won't fake those tests…and I'll do everything around here…I'll help you, I'll really help you, and I'll do anything…anything…please, please, do something…don't let them take me there…oh god don't let them take me…please, please…"

Todd sat up and shoved himself against the pillows. The awfulness of the moment didn't do a thing to penetrate the high he was on. The heroin was like a bullet-proof vest, resisting all those bullets coming at him. He watched the words fall out of the boy's mouth, watched them tumble onto the floor and hobble up the blanket…hopping up and down, up and down…and finally they jumped down Todd's throat…choking him. He couldn't breathe and yet didn't feel a thing. Somewhere though, the logic broke through. He hated himself. Totally, completely, thoroughly. He deserved the worst that life could give him. He got out of bed, limped to Jed, and held his boy in his arms as Jed sobbed helplessly.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, kiddo," Todd said. "It fuckin' eats at you."

When Jed calmed down, he gently pulled away from Todd who slid down onto the carpet in front of his bed, not having enough energy to get onto the bed and under the covers. Todd leaned back against the mattress, his head tipped back, and shut his eyes. His feet twitched, legs spread on the floor. Sighed again. Like he was at the goddamn beach.

"So what promise is eating at you?" Jed asked. "The one where you promised not to do heroin again?"

"The one where I said I'd go away if I got into it again. Can't leave…you're never getting rid of me."

"The drugs could get rid of you for me."

"I'm immortal. I'll never die…both your parents are immortal."

"You're crazy."

"Yup, that's what they say."

"I can't give up weed."

"I know. You're an addict."

Jed nodded… "I like it."

"Yeah…I know. But it's illegal and crippling."

"Crippling?"

"Yeah, any addiction is. When you can't move, can't breathe… can't make a decision without an eye on that thing, whether it's weed or heroin or booze or…a person…or running away…you're chained. Can't fly…can't do anything. It's fucked."

"You're talking about _my_ running."

Todd opened his eyes and gazed at Jed.

Jed hesitated…, "Lie to me…tell me you didn't use in there. Give me hope, Pops."

"Every day's a fight…some battles you win, some you don't."

"You fuckin' asshole." Jed glared at Todd. "You're why I'm being sent to Juvie."

There wasn't much to say. Todd sighed and tipped his head back again, sliding down down down until he was on his back. He had his knees up, swaying. Eyes closed. Arms spread out.

"What am I gonna do?"

"Go to the facility. We'll work shit out."

"I hate it there. I want to go with you to West Virginia. I'll deal with the consequences."

"You're not going anywhere except where the police take you," Téa snapped. She stood at the door, suited up. She was sharp as usual, Italian tailored suit, her favorite plum color. Her pants were straight legged and she had some fancy-heeled boots on, high sharp heels. Her jacket was in her hand. The ivory silk blouse she wore had pearl buttons and they shined in the morning light. "Things will be fine—I'm not going to rest until I know they are."

Todd opened his eyes and looked at Téa. From the floor, knees still up, he asked. "I wanna ask somethin'. Wanna ask the lawyer… somethin'." Closed his eyes again.

She looked at him and Jed saw on her face that she very well knew Todd's condition. She was raging angry, breathing through her nose, her fists tight. "Go ahead," she said in a short, clipped voice.

"What if we run, Delgado? What if we get in our truck and go to West Virginia today. What if, huh?"

She walked to him and put her booted foot on his belly. He opened his eyes at that.

"What would we do there, _amor_?"

"We'd be free…feel the sun on our skin…wind in our hair…not care 'bout shit…pills… meetings…judges. We'd just be together…look for Jed's mom…for Michelle. We'd be happy, ya know?"

Téa's eyes watered despite her rage, because of it, and she turned her head to hide that fact. Then dug her booted foot downwards and Todd grunted, "Owww…Jesus Christ..."

"What about you…what about the things that tie you down?"

"I'd work it out. What would the consequences be? Think you can let up on this boot?"

Jed looked at Todd…and saw such truthfulness, such honesty in his dishonesty. Jed knew his Angel Daddy was too broken and too screwed up…and his world was too twisted for regular people…but in that chaos there was never denying the love. The only other person who'd loved Jed that way had been his mom. She, too, had broken rules and had ended up taking Jed along on her own course of destruction.

Destiny, Jed thought.

Téa shook her head, "No, I will not let up on this boot. We would go to jail, Todd. That is not an option."

Todd had his hands on her boot and closed his eyes once more. "Was a thought," he drawled.

Téa had known the moment she heard him on the phone that he'd fallen and seeing him here only confirmed the truth. Angry tears welled again. "I wish you'd told me just how close you were to the edge."

"Thought I did. Said it a buncha times. It hurts what you're doing." He grunted softly at her action… and she couldn't help but be amazed at his strange sort of happiness despite the fact that he was surrounded by total wreckage. Heroin allowed him that. He couldn't really cry, couldn't feel pain. He was blissfully relieved of all that hurt him, including the pain of everyone else. She dug down again. He grunted again, softly, a sound she recognized.

"Téa… you're giving me a hard-on."

Jed rolled his eyes and then chuckled, beside himself at how totally insane his father was.

Téa nodded, "Good. It'll make your dick easier to see and therefore easier to cut off."

Todd laughed, an easy laugh, a relieved laugh. "Oh fuck that did not help." She dug in again. He ran his hand up her leg and it was all she could do to not kick him in the face.

"Do you want details, Jed, on today's ruling?"

"Yeah, I guess," he said from the chair, a bit of worry in his voice.

"Judge said we have to separate you from Todd. They concluded he was likely relapsing and therefore a danger to you. Not physically, but emotionally and psychologically. In 30 days they will re-evaluate everything. We'll talk to a court-appointed psychologist, a social worker, everything will be looked at as far as you living here. One thing for sure that I did not know before this morning is that Todd is not able to shake this. Methadone is not working. The outpatient sessions are not working." She looked down at Todd and he looked up at her. She removed her boot and he sat up. He shuffled back so he was leaning against the bed once more. He mindlessly rubbed the red spot on his chest from her heel.

"Wait… I don't un'erstand," Todd murmured.

"You have to go, Todd. You're not staying here. You created this problem. You are the solution. You didn't tell me that you missed therapy sessions, that Bo Buchanan stopped you on Llanview Boulevard last week, that you were sweating and basically looking like the drug addict you are."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. Tipped his head back and closed his eyes again. Téa put her hand out, pointing at him, and looking at Jed. "I am sorry, I am so so sorry you have to see this."

"Not like I'm not familiar."

"I thought I had such vision," Téa said. "I really thought I'd see it coming and we'd be able to do something in time. But I didn't see it and he did a damn good job at going it alone. No chance to win like that." She paused, Jed settling back into the chair, biting on his thumbnail, watching the windows. That's when Téa noticed his injured fist.

"What happened to your hand?" She moved to him right away… but he shook his head, trying to put her off.

"A fight with the bathroom door. He did it right in front of me, you know… locked the door."

Téa squeezed her eyes shut at what must have happened here, taking a breath. "Let me get something for you."

"No…no, it's okay." He examined his fist…"I cleaned the blood upside his head."

"You hit him?" She glanced over at his sleeping form, returning her gaze to Jed.

He nodded, shrugging. "Yeah. But…listen, I asked my counselor about him."

Wanting Jed to talk because he needed to… Téa sat on the bed, Todd next to her on the floor. He moved his head to lean against her leg. She shook her leg so he would stop and he moved over. He re-adjusted. Then she asked in a gentle voice, "What did you talk about?"

"Wondered whether he'd get better. Carl said…told me…the only real possibility to get clean…really clean…is in a residence program. Most addicts can't do it any other way. He said heroin and crystal meth are the worst. He said… these guys relapse over and over. Especially when they're trying to do it out-patient. I wasn't hopeful when I heard that. I kinda think that's why I'm not as bothered right now as I could be. I mean, he talked it up good at dinner the other day…but, when I talked to Carl…I knew Todd was fucked."

"I wanted to believe we could pull off a miracle. I asked too much."

He shrugged, not mentioning what Summer told him. That maybe she had been a little blinded thanks to the sex.

"What do you want to do about today, sweetheart? I mean…I know what the right thing is…but you do have the ultimate say in all of this. Even when it comes to choosing… the wrong things."

"I wanna run."

"Other than that."

He sniffed and shrugged a little, those sad eyes tearing at Téa. "It's the only thing I wanna do."

"Oh _mijo._ " She wanted to go to him, but then didn't. She felt guilty.

"What's _your_ plan?" he asked.

"My plan…" She looked down at Todd, at his face. At his peaceful sleep. He was lightly perspiring. She wanted to cry…but didn't. "He's going someplace—he has to. Carl was right…your counselor. A residence program is really his only chance. I called the social worker on my way over here…and she heard from the prosecutor. Said if we enroll Todd in a long-term residence program, you can come home. The sooner Todd gets there, the faster you'll be back here."

"Well…that takes care of that. I'm screwed."

"No…please…give me this chance. Give _him_ the chance. He'll go. You'll be home this evening. Maybe the morning at the latest. Please…it's all I ask of you."

Jed got up and headed to the door, watching Téa follow him with her eyes. "Tonight or tomorrow?"

"Yes. Not a day longer. He loves you, Jed. If he realizes the choices, I know in my heart he'll make the right decision. I just do."

The two looked at his sleeping form. They hoped like hell he'd do the right thing.

 **To be continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

**On** **the** **Edge** **of** **Wakefulness** , **Part** 3

 **Chapter 7**

" _He loves you, Jed…if he realizes the choices, I know in my heart he'll make the right decision. I just do."_

Téa had said those words but had lied right through her teeth. She didn't believe for one second Todd would willingly go to a long-term residence program no matter how much she wanted him to. Not for Jed, not for her, not for anything.

Today, he chose heroin.

So…she had to lie to Jed, had to build up an imaginary faith. It was necessary because she needed to get Jedediah to the juvenile facility in one piece, without pissing anybody off. He had to be treated with kid gloves and she needed the facility people to do the same.

But if Jed acted like Jed always did, he'd get mistreated—he'd get no compassion, or understanding, just the tough love of the juvenile system. And that is how the damage would deepen.

She looked down at Todd…still sitting on the floor with his head tipped back against the mattress, still nodded out. Lips parted. She touched his skin, noticing it had cooled. She moved strands of hair stuck to his cheek and ended up caressing the beard, then his head, feeling the bump Jed most likely gave him. He sleepily opened his eyes to her touches, licked his lips, then returned to dreamland. His arms lay loosely on his lap. She could see the fresh pink puncture mark on his forearm. A bruise would develop there. Another scar.

"Yeah, I'd sleep, too," Téa said. "You _should_ be hiding."

He opened his eyes and looked around. Then mindlessly got up and crawled into the bed behind Téa. He grunted softly as he rolled to his side. The sweatpants were loose and slipped down, revealing the crack of his behind. She sighed. She scooted backwards on the bed to move closer to him. She traced the Grim Reaper tattoo with her fingertips. Prison artwork that was incredible, terrifying in its black and gray detail. The grin promised hell.

"How could you do that to your son?" she whispered, leaning over and pressing her lips to his shoulder, picking up the scent of soap.

All she got in response was silence. She caressed his long hair, still damp from a shower. She knew his body now. The way it worked. The way the muscles flexed as he moved. She could tell if he was really sleeping or just pretending to sleep merely by how he lay in bed. She knew the smell of him now, the scents he naturally emitted. Just showered versus earlier versus not for hours and hours. She knew when he walked the long walks between their building and the clinic and the Sun offices. Knew when he drove through the city, locked in an air-conditioned car. She knew his skin, the tattoos, the scars, the hair on his body. She lightly touched his lower back, his bared hip. She could easily reach around front and hold him, caress his cock, the sack. She knew he'd hold her hand in his, that he'd eventually turn to her and watch her as she brought him closer to his end, finally lifting his chin and closing his eyes and grunting breathily as he came. She knew him now, better than before. She could do things to him she knew he liked. And he could do things to her he knew _she_ liked. It had only been a week and half of love-making, of education, exploration, that had drawn them closer.

She had become… _obscured_. She had missed everything that mattered.

Shaking her head, Téa got off the bed. She was torn. She had to search the room for more drugs, but needed to watch Jed. She knew this part of Todd from before. Knew there wasn't just one bag of heroin in this room. If he had decided to relapse, he would have taken care of himself for a goddamn month. She didn't want him slinking off… and he was so capable. She worried he would shoot up again if she left the room. She could tell he hadn't used that much which made him vulnerable to needing more and needing it soon.

She needed help with him, but time was short.

She had an idea. Quickly, she crossed the hall and grabbed some black nylon stockings from her dresser, returning to Todd. She climbed onto the bed, on hands and knees, and gently took one of his wrists, wrapping the black stocking around it… pulling it toward the heavy mahogany bedpost and tying it there as securely as possible. Before she liked, Todd stirred and tugged at his hand weakly. He looked in the direction of the unmovable limb, at the black stretch of material, confused, while Téa worked on his other wrist.

Within moments, he came more awake, glimpsing Téa with heavy-lidded eyes, and said in the quietest of tones, "What you doin' to me?" He sounded so innocent, so helpless, Téa almost stopped her job. She saw the revealing pinprick pupils however and went ahead and tied his other hand to the other bedpost with even more conviction. He jerked his arms a little, but the ties held fast.

"I have to take care of Jed—I don't have time to upturn the room for your drugs right now—and I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Don't yell when the cops get here…you definitely don't want _them_ to search the room, do you?"

"I won't do anything, Delgado…" Again, the soft voice, the puppy-like eyes. But he'd do this, wouldn't he? Fool her? Trick her?

Téa creased her brows, pressed her lips together, her face a picture of tension. "I'm doing this because I love you. And because I love your son whom you've hurt beyond comprehension."

"I hurt him?"

"My god…you used heroin while he was outside the door, hitting the door so hard he made himself bleed. Look for yourself, look at the door."

Todd left her…and looked at the bloodied door. He sniffled and gazed again at Téa, murmuring, "Didn't hear him."

"Right…" Téa was touching his hand, to see if the makeshift handcuffs were too tight, to see if the bindings would hold. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost think you did it specifically in front of Jed."

"Téa…please untie me…I'm starting to get weird thoughts and I don't like it."

He was stretched a bit, arms spread apart. His chest and belly were taut with resistance to the bindings, defined musculature revealed in the morning light. The pants were low, and she could see the puff of pubic hair, could see the shape of him beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. He raised a knee and rocked it. He writhed a little against the ties.

It was a disturbingly… erotic vision.

She shook her head to clear it. She wished he hadn't mentioned the weird thoughts… hadn't twisted guilt's knife in her gut. She could only imagine the sorts of things being tied up might stir in his corrupted imagination. Except… she had no choice at the moment. He was too cunning, too desperate. He'd fallen hard and there was no telling how far he'd go, no telling how devoted he was to the act of falling.

"I can't," she argued. "I need to take care of Jed. I promise you, it won't be long." She pulled her hair back, hesitating before leaving the room, trying to combat his practiced turn of the blade with every pained expression he threw her way, "You have no idea how scared I am of your drug. I'm so afraid of it… and I worry that you'll get hurt like before. Like when you weren't breathing and were on a respirator. I hear, too, when a person is on methadone… they don't feel the full dose of heroin until it's too late. They keep taking more to feel more…and by the time they do, by the time they _feel_ …they've overdosed. And they die. I'm afraid of that."

She saw him pout his lips, take quick short breaths, as he said, "Please…you're not as scared as me. Don't do this…don't leave me like this… I'm terrified of being defenseless… even stoned, I'm so fuckin' scared of it…"

He suddenly sounded too manipulative for Téa's comfort… a twitch of his lip… a gleam in his eye… at least, she preferred to think of him that way. It made her action more palatable—she didn't want to be empathetic. Not now when Jed was at risk.

"And yet, you don't mind being defenseless in a shooting gallery? That makes no sense."

"I'm not fucked up enough… give me more and I can handle being tied up… come on, come on… it's easy… so easy…I could just snort it 'cause it's powder; you don't even have to inject me." He groaned at the end there… closing his eyes and putting his head back… writhing on the bed in a kind of agony only another addict could understand. But she found she had to work to ignore the sexual component to how he moved in the bindings.

"Come on, come on," he moaned. "You're killing me."

"No," she said, "And so help me God, if you yell…if you snarl in here like a rabid dog, if you so much as make a peep, I will let the police in here. I will tell them exactly what you did…and trust me, they will find your drugs and you will go straight to jail."

He stared at her…"Why aren't you doing that anyway?" Puppy-like again, pouting again… breathing fast… he tugged on the ties and brought his knees up… let them fall… twisted more.

"Because I want to give you a chance to take care of yourself on your own. I don't want to _have to_ send you to jail."

With that, she stepped out of the room, pausing just outside. Praying he had enough drugs in his system to prevent a panic attack or anxiety attack or a flashback. God…she couldn't think like that. She leaned back against the wall and listened…listened to him pull at the homemade restraints and then sigh…and then make little whimpering noises. He quieted again, though. She didn't know if the ties would hold, but she couldn't think of that either now. For the most part, he seemed safe and secure.

She turned and went to Jed's room, stopping at his door.

He sat cross-legged on his bed in front of his backpack, his elbow on his knee, resting his head on his hand. The backpack bulged most certainly with things precious to him, things he'd need on the road. He looked to be carrying the weight of a thousand worlds on his shoulders. Though he dealt with very adult issues, lived very much an adult life, he was still a boy. Add in the messy hair, jeans that needed a washing, faded and stretched tee-shirt under the ancient leather jacket, and those ancient boots—it all made for a heart-wrenching package.

"How much time do I have?" He glanced up at her.

Téa checked her watch. "They said noon, but I wouldn't be surprised if they show earlier. Do you know where you're…wanting to go?"

"West V."

"What will you do there? Will you go home? That's actually a legal option. I could—"

"Hell, no. I'm gonna look for my mom. I got friends there."

"Oh yes…that's right." Téa took a spot next to Jed on the floor. "What did you take?"

"Nothing that will get me sent to jail like before."

She smiled, "That's good. What about food? Do you have money?"

"A little." He twisted his mouth…a habit he had when he thought about something he was unsure of. "I took money from Todd a while ago. Kinda stole it."

"How much did you take?"

He dropped his eyes… "A lot. Like over a thousand dollars. At least."

The theft surprised her, the amount, wounding her a little. She wasn't sure why. "Where'd you get it from?"

"Desk drawer… I saw it once."

That was what bothered her. He took it a while ago, took it in case he needed to run and clearly he thought… he might have to run. He never felt 100 percent safe here.

 _Oh god._

"Jed…"

He cut her off. "I think he carried cash around and I think… it's because he always planned on relapsing."

Téa nodded, sick at all of it. "Maybe," she said. "But you have to know that the moment you leave…the cops will be on the lookout for you. You won't get far. Then you'll be sent to Juvie as a delinquent as opposed to a guest."

"I know how to do things right. I'll be gone… I know how to disappear."

"You'll do this…even for just a few hours there? Or an overnight stay?"

He stood, picking the backpack up and slinging it over his shoulder. He didn't answer the charge, moving onto the deal… the bend in the tale to his coming home right away. "Do you honestly think he'll go to some long-term program? I mean…come on…get real. I'm not coming home tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day…" He huffed, adjusting the pack.

Téa put her hands on his shoulders, shaking them a little for emphasis. "Yes, you will come home tonight or tomorrow morning," she said. "Because if he doesn't want to go voluntarily, he'll be taken there."

Jed's eyes brightened some, "You can do that?"

"I have friends too, you know, big husky friends. He'll get there."

The momentary brightness faded. "Even if he does… he won't stay."

"Hey," she said gently, "you coming home isn't dependent on his sticking out the program… it's dependent on him getting there… and staying away from you."

She saw the indecision on his face. Despite the theft and the idea that he should run to save himself, he didn't really want to do it. He needed a solid reason to not do what had become reflex. He looked around his room and Téa hoped he was taking note of all his things. She understood that this was the first real home he'd had in what must have felt like forever. And the most obvious indication of it was his possessions.

He had told them in therapy that buying things, letting Todd and Téa buy him things, was new to him. Since he was around nine or ten he stopped acquiring _stuff._ He had developed a habit of non-acquisition because he'd never stay at home long enough to use anything. Now, there was his fancy phone, fancy Bluetooth speakers, a bookshelf full of books, a high-end computer… and there were lots of clothes in the closet, more than he'd ever had. He even had pictures on his desk. Pencils and pens and new video games and college guides were there too. The coup de gras was a poster on the wall of a local band he liked with show tickets tacked on.

He had been living a real life, one which had been painstakingly culled out of the emotional abuse he'd endured, countless losses, ravaged love, and the fire that burned inside of him, a fire which had brought him to Llanview in the first place. His hazel-colored eyes glistened with indecision.

She asked, "What exactly are you afraid of about the facility?"

Scratching his head, he gazed at Téa for some moments, finally admitting, "I'm afraid of being left there. Forgotten."

Téa's eyes watered and she reached for him, pulling him into her arms as tightly as she could. She held him, saying, "I will not forget you. I will _not_ rest, Jed, until you're out of there and back home. Here. With me. This is your HOME. It's more yours than Todd's right now. Do you understand?"

She could tell he was weeping…it was such a struggle for him to believe in his importance as a person, that he mattered to anyone. This was the highest hurdle for him and something that always brought him down. And it was how Todd's abuse of drugs, and abuse of him, affected him. To Jed, it spoke loudly of him being insignificant.

After some moments, he sighed, sticking his hands deep into his pockets, "Okay, I'll go to Juvie."

Téa looked at him, smiling, "Oh Jed, oh thank god. You're going to be fine. _We're_ going to be fine."

"And him?" Jed's whole person darkened at the question.

Not taking her eyes off his, she shook her head. "Doesn't matter. _We_ are what we have to focus on."

"Yeah…I guess."

Jed put the backpack down and dug out the cash. Kept a hundred. Just in case he'd need it. He tossed the rest on the bed and Téa shook her head at it. Not at Jed's taking it but that Todd even had it. That sneaky bastard kept cash around so he could make buys of heroin.

It terrified her.

As Jed and Téa moved towards the stairs, Téa peeked into Todd's bedroom. She saw he lay still, his face turned away from the door. Jed didn't look… kept walking. Téa assumed Jed thought Todd was just sleeping. She wasn't sure how he'd feel if he knew the truth, that Todd was tied to the bed. Jed had the love-hate thing down to a science when it came to Todd—she could imagine him getting a little bent out of shape at something that appeared so punishing. Even if he wanted him punished. She prayed he'd not decide he needed to say goodbye… and was relieved when he hit the stairs without even a glance back.

Once downstairs, Jed plopped on the couch and flipped on the television to wait. Téa picked up the telephone to call Tim and Viki. To her incalculable but hidden frustration, neither were around. She left urgent messages for both. She wanted to call his sponsor but when she searched for the number, she couldn't find it. She could have sworn she'd put it right by the telephone…and in her purse. But it was oddly missing from both places. _Sneaky_ _bastard_. She was sure Todd had swiped it off the desk and picked it out of her purse. God, he had a way.

"Damn it," she cursed to herself.

Mere minutes later, the police showed up with Kathy Grant, the social worker, in tow. She was a lively woman, young and pretty and kind. Téa was relieved Jed hadn't gotten a burn-out to work with which was usually the case thanks to the heavy workload imposed on county employees.

"Well, let's get a move-on," Kathy said, her hair in braids and swinging with her movement across the floor to Jed. "I assume Ms. Delgado-Manning explained to you that we're all going to work really hard at getting you home as soon as possible?"

Jed nodded, "Yeah. I'm a little worried, though. My dad…he's…"

"Now, now…none of that. We're all going to think positively! Not a worry at all." Kathy patted him on the back as one of the police officers picked up his backpack and searched it. He smiled at Jed, winking at him. They were terribly sweet and gentle and Téa said a quick prayer of thanks.

"Don't worry, kid," the cop said, "I spent some time there myself… I'll have to tell you some of the secrets of the place on our way over."

Jed's eyes watered and he looked over at Téa who smiled at him assuredly. He sniffled and rubbed his nose, trying to cover up his sensitivity, as the officer handed him his backpack.

Téa went and hugged Jed, saying softly, "Remember what I said. You will not be left there. I love you." He barely looked at her and she felt a traitor despite all the good sentiment, all the attempts at uplifting broken spirits.

She had been... _obscured_.

She watched stoically as the group left, Jed walking with his head up and a bit of a swagger, and when she closed the door, once the elevator doors shut, she cried quietly at having lost a battle thanks to Todd. God, she prayed Jed would behave himself.

Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for a long day, and possibly a long night. She hoped for the cavalry to come but wasn't sure Todd would give her time for them to arrive.

He was going to run if he had the chance. He was on his way back to the streets.

* * *

Todd hadn't changed positions from when Téa looked in on him earlier. He wasn't moving and faced away from the door. He hadn't managed to get out of the restraints. She ambled over to the side of the bed and he glanced up at her, his expression plain… unrevealing.

"Are you okay?" Téa planned on looking for the drugs but wanted to make sure Todd wasn't losing his mind. She didn't want to torture him unnecessarily. "I'd untie you, but I worry you'll hurt me if you see me finding heroin and throwing it away."

"Please don't throw it away," he said thinly.

Well, now she knew. He definitely had more heroin in the room. What a sneaky bastard.

With his whole body, with his eyes, he begged her—he twisted in the bindings, bent his knees…hunched over… groaned. The need was evident, all-consuming. He repeated, "Please… please… Téa …please don't throw it away… you can't do that to me."

The idea that his stash would be tossed was obviously unbearable. Téa was uneasy. He tugged at the ties and she could see they had loosened. It wouldn't be long and he'd be out. She had no idea how aggressive he might get—but she more than knew his potential. In bed on one of their nights together, at the peak of their tryst, he pulled her wrists above her head to keep her still as he thrust inside of her. He did it spontaneously. He didn't ask her if it was okay, he didn't tease the idea of it. The most frightening part was the strength he showed when he did it. There was no possibility of getting out of that hold he had on her. It was… _unsettling._

He seemed weak now. She tightened the black nylons…and he groaned painfully.

"I have to do this," she said.

First place she searched was the bathroom. Not much searching needed. As soon as she walked in, there it all was. A needle on the floor next to a latex strap, an overturned plastic cup, and a cotton ball. Blood on the tiles and vomit in the toilet. She flushed. Outside the open cupboard was a baggy with five or six new syringes. Nearby was an abandoned rubber balloon… she assumed it was the heroin. As she thought, he had only used a small amount.

Because, of course.

A small amount would ease the symptoms. Would allow him to take a shower and hold a conversation with Téa, with Jed. Todd Manning, her "newish" husband, editor-in-chief of the Sun, father to Starr and Jed, brother to Viki… had every intention to continue using while living here and living his very normal life. He planned on becoming a maintenance heroin user. She had to breathe through a spike of anger.

 _My GOD._

She carefully gathered everything and placed them on the counter. She searched the cupboards and found another tiny balloon. She emptied all the remaining heroin into the toilet to the tune of Todd's groans and wounded cries.

"Please, please, please…why did you do that? Oh god… god… I'm _dying_ …"

Emotion was breaking through… and it was the loss of his drugs that did it. Forget Jed's getting picked up by cops or his suffering… no… only the drugs could prod him. The loss was near- _electrical_. If she wasn't so horrified, or so angry, Téa could have cried too…it just killed her to hear him.

"Is there any more?"

His pitch changed to one of lightness and he sped up his delivery. "No…no…no…nothing, that was it. I swear to God…that was it. That was all she wrote…yup…fat lady sung on that one…you can untie me now…please, please, please…"

"I'm sure you're lying. You had big goddamn plans."

"No, no…you're done… please untie me. Please, Téa …I hate it, I hate being tied up…it scares me, it really scares me…" He mewled like a cat. "Ohhhh please, untie me…bad things, so many bad things…. they're right here… up so close to me…please…"

Trying not to pay attention to him, she went to his closet and searched through every shelf, every box… with Todd now trying to bargain with her, repeatedly saying she was wasting her time, that there wasn't anything else.

"Come on, Téa …I wouldn't lie, I'd tell you if there was more, I swear to you…because… you know, because I'm really trying hard here… come on… please, please… and if you let me go, we'll go to the hospital… I'll do it today… I swear to God… just… untie me…"

"The problem is, you already blew it. You told me there was more."

When she clearly wasn't stopping the foraging he switched gears and started to whimper about being tied up, claiming he was losing it. Téa continued her search. She rifled through the pockets of his pants in the closet, digging into them, poking through his shirts. She found some duffel bags and went through them, too. Peeked in every one of the shoes. Nothing was there.

She then started in on his dresser… with Todd switching gears yet again… going back to his pleading. He was unrecognizable in this mad desperation. She ignored him though, probing the drawers, the little boxes he kept full of trinkets from Starr, from other things. She came across an artsy-looking Polaroid of him and Brandy with her writing on the back of it—it said, "Sailing on an ocean, love, Brandy." They appeared to be sitting on a ratty sofa but it didn't look like the place Téa had seen. Brandy was close to the camera, close to the edge with her head tilted in playful laughter and Todd was sunk back, looking out from behind her. Just like him to not smile, to display a kind of muted pain, pain dulled by the powdered princess. Téa wondered who took it. It had a kind of style. She wondered mostly why he kept it. She glanced at him… and couldn't help but think of his life with Brandy. She made herself stop because those thoughts made her weak. Putting it aside, she moved on.

And hit pay-dirt in the back of one of the drawers, heroin bags, two, tucked into one of the boxes next to a letter from Starr.

"Jesus, Todd…you could at least separate the two notions…"

"Fuck! Téa! Please don't, don't, don't…no, Téa... why, why…" He moaned agonizingly as she dumped the powdered drug down the toilet. She figured he'd probably cry if he was less high.

She looked through the armoire, finding nothing, leaving the side tables to his bed…and the bed itself. When she approached, he kicked at her…trying to stop her.

Now he was getting angry.

"You hurt me and I call the cops," she cautioned, making every effort not to sound fragile. Trying to be as tough as she could. He chuckled at first, but it faded…

"Yeah? Go ahead…and I'll report you for false imprisonment, kidnapping, assault, and attempted _murder,_ you bitch, you evil, motherfucking _bitch_!" He shook with anxiety, with sheer desperation to get out and get to his stash. "Let me go, you…you _cunt_ …"

"My goodness…listen to you. Bringing out the big guns. What happened to the scared little boy I tied up, huh?"

"Fuck off…just…fuck off." He turned away and started working the nylon strips, yanking at them, twisting his hands. He was breathing hard and perspiring. She could see his muscles flexing with effort at tearing the ties. Téa was getting anxious that neither Tim nor Viki were calling back. She had an animal bound to a bed and it wasn't going to be long before he'd get out. If he did manage to escape, she'd have to call the police… and she didn't want to. She didn't want him to go through the torture of jail and all that garbage only to end up where he should have gone in the first place, a residence-type drug rehabilitation program.

Hurriedly, Téa searched the night table, finding nothing. She ran her hands along the underside of the mattress…near the bottom…and moved up the other side. It was clear… it seemed. His arms were longer than hers so certainly he could have shoved the drugs way under. She then checked the top drawer of the second night table…and taped beneath were two small packages of what had to be more heroin.

"What were you thinking, Todd? Huh? My god… did you clean out the state of Pennsylvania?!"

"Shut up! Just…shut UP! What do you know?! Oh…guess what? You don't know shit because you're too perfect…just too fucking perfect!"

To Téa's shock, he'd gotten one hand free and when Tea tried to grab his hand to retie it, he easily twisted out of her hold and grabbed her hair so hard she gasped.

"Gotcha," he rumbled.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" She was panicking and prayed like hell for some kind of intervention.

"Not on your fucking life…"

He scooted up the bed, pulling a struggling Téa with him and managed to get to his knees. He had no choice but to let go of her and when he did, he did it harshly, pushing her off the bed. He then tried to untie the other nylon stocking. Téa immediately opened the bottom portion of the night table, hurrying even more so now. She noticed Todd looking at her and she knew he definitely had more drugs. His desperation was palpable and she had to rush… but she was scared shitless because she was no match for him physically. She came up with nothing though, startling when Todd yelled angrily—except when she looked at him, she realized he yelled because he couldn't untie the strip… Téa had knotted it too tightly and he didn't have the dexterity to do it in his current state.

She sighed with relief for the moment.

With reddened eyes, he shook his head…hopelessly, "Why are you doing this to me?" He begged of her…his whole being a mess of hurt. "You don't understand."

She held the packages in her pants pocket, unsure if he had been paying attention… but not wanting to aggravate the situation by running to the bathroom.

"I'm trying to help you," she said.

He laughed sadly, "Some kinda help, Delgado." He looked so tired, setting back against the headboard. The heroin's effects on him were mind-blowing to Téa. Mere hours, a "small" amount… and he'd already taken on the pallor of drug abuse that he'd had before. It was as if the sickness had been merely dusted over, hidden just beneath the surface. It showed her that he hadn't been truly clean, that methadone was just another replacement drug. In this one instant, Téa changed her mind about the program. He needed to get off everything.

Téa perched on the edge of the bed, watching him the way one would watch a tiger in an insecure cage. He kept his eyes on the black nylon stocking Téa had tied him up with. When he turned to her, she expected him to say something painful, or pained, or nasty… she thought maybe he'd plead with her, or attempt to bargain for his release.

Instead, in a cheerless voice, Todd said, "Don't think I've ever seen you wear these. Girls wear these with garters, don't they?"

Téa chuckled, covering her face, pulling her hair back… "Yes…and I was saving them for a special event."

"Like what?"

"I don't know… a dinner in an exclusive restaurant… or dancing half-naked for you on the breakfast table."

A smile began to break out across his lips… but it was shut down quickly as he leaned his head back.

"Delgado…you're so far away from that breakfast table. You're scared…you're covered with fear… like mud… scared of the drugs, scared for Jed, scared for me, for yourself. The worst… is you're scared _of_ me. I don't blame you."

"You pushed me off the bed like trash, you pulled my _hair_."

"Like I said, I don't blame you."

He triggered something inside of her and she almost felt like crying. Fear hadn't always been a part of her life and she knew her fearlessness is what drew Todd to her originally. The fact that she wasn't afraid of him in spite of his past, in spite of the torments he'd put her through. But when she looked at herself now, she realized the wall guarding against fear…had been broken down. He'd blown it to bits. _Kapow_ … as he'd say.

She nodded… "I'm deathly afraid."

He rubbed his tied-up wrist and he reminded Téa of a creature caught in one of those traps with metal teeth that slams itself closed on unwarned paws. He rubbed his wrist where the binding dug into his skin. A need to comfort Todd overwhelmed Téa. She never could handle his vulnerability… even at his worst.

"Will you hurt me," she said, "if I sit closer to you?"

"I won't hurt you."

"You won't grab me or pull me…or threaten me?"

"No."

She moved in on the bed… and he stayed still. She knew she shouldn't trust his word. But she wanted to believe she could make a difference.

After a moment, he whispered, "Touch me."

"Why?"

"I need to feel real, like I'm not something monstrous…repulsive…or scary…or ugly."

"But you are scary. You're a bomb waiting to explode. You're waiting for me to be weak so you can tear past me, to get to your drugs and shoot up. How can I not be scared of you?"

His eyes watered, shining. "Tell me…wouldn't you do the same? Fight tooth and nail, Téa, to be happy? Isn't that what you've been doing all this time? Since we first met?"

"I'm not fighting for a kind of happiness that could kill me…"

"Aren't you? Look who you think you can be happy with… _me_." He laughed bitterly. "Do you know how many times I nearly killed Brandy? Do you know…how many times someone has died because of me? Loving me, Téa, is a danger. That's what the judge told you today, isn't it?"

Téa said nothing. She didn't want to hear this. It recalled every warning she ever got about him from people who told her they loved her. Carlotta probably would have tied her up, too, to keep her from Todd. He didn't let her close her eyes to him…he reached for her, turning her face towards him.

"Do you know how often I wanted to dip her beneath the bath water she loves so much… and keep her there… how I wanted to strangle her in her sleep?"

She knew what was coming next. He almost didn't have to say it.

"Do you know how often I fucked her while wanting to kill her… do you know what that did to me? The thought of it."

She could see what it did to him on his face, she could hear the blending of sex and violence in his voice. She felt it… when he had held her wrists above her head.

"Stop it…"

"Téa, I liked to put my hands around her throat when we fucked because it made me feel like I could do just that. _Kill her_. You ask me to talk about her and I think it's because you think we were romantic or something. We weren't. We aren't."

"Jesus Christ…"

"Do you know we killed Phillip? I strangled him with a leather cuff… and Brandy stabbed him. I can still smell the blood."

"Oh Todd…"

"So look at me and tell me… death isn't a possibility with me? And yet you claw and fight for our life because you _love_ me…because…you feel a kind of peace when we're with each other, a kind of _relief_. You'd tear past anyone trying to stop you from reaching that place, maybe even kill a thing. Especially now. Now that we're… _together_."

She gasped a little at him, acting shocked. Galled. He snorted back at her, a short nasty huff.

"What, Delgado? Don't like what I'm saying?"

"You're twisting things to justify using, to justify a willingness to hurt me, to hurt Jed, to get to heroin. There's no comparison between my wanting us happy… _together…_ and heroin! And your wanting to kill Brandy…you know that's different. I don't believe for one second you want me dead. With her…you wanted her dead…because you saw yourself in her. It was a suicidal thing..."

He laughed, his head knocking purposefully back against the headboard—she frustrated him. "You have no idea what goes through my head…don't be so goddamned arrogant. And I could easily say you're fuckin' suicidal in your pursuit of ME, of US."

Téa hugged her knees, bowing her head onto them, hiding…was she so wrong?

"You're telling me you want me dead? That being together is a risk to my life?"

"I'm telling you, don't assume anything… why I'd want Brandy dead… or what I see when I look at her or _you_ … or that you don't hurt me. Maybe _you're_ just another form of heroin."

"How do I hurt you?"

"You're hurting me, now! You've tied me up, you deprive me. Everyone is so willing to damage me, to violate me, just so I can fit into their world, your world. God, Delgado… are you so fucking blind? Can't you see that?"

"No," Téa wanted to cry, but she didn't dare. How could he? How could he try civilize heroin, to give it any kind of validation. And what… comparing himself to it? That he was _her_ drug? That _she_ was heroin? How could he trivialize what they had? She stopped herself…

… because heroin wasn't trivial to Todd. It was complex, it was a carefully formulated chemical solution of love and hate, it was his salvation…it was his hell. Heroin wasn't trivial at all.

She groaned into her hands. She was crazy to try to make any sense of anything he said. "Todd… this is—"

"You hurt me, Téa, by depriving me of peace. You hurt me by wanting me 'well'… you hurt me by loving me."

"You know what, I shouldn't but…tell me exactly how my love hurts you? I get this literal definition of tying you up… but love? Isn't that what you want? Love? Peace? Happiness? A real life? A family?"

He groaned and tipped back…so aggravated… "It hurts…because it reminds me of all that I can't give you! It reminds me of all the damage that's already been done. It holds up a mirror to me… and I see everything that's awful about me." He breathed in deeply, "Don't you get it? I can't give you peace! I can't give you happiness! Love and family with me are a fucking DELUSION. You are chasing the dragon, man, spilling your own blood, scarring yourself, over and over, for something that doesn't fucking exist. And in the end, you might just end up dead. At least with dope, the high is fucking real, it's reliable… and it doesn't pretend to not be dangerous. I am not fooled. I KNOW dope can kill me. Unlike you, Téa, who denies the same kind of risk. I _am_ dangerous to you and you deny it worse than the biggest heroin addicts out there."

Téa sat on folded legs, on her hands. Stunned really. She had to think. She swallowed hard. Voices pounded in her head. A million warnings. A punch that knocked her unconscious. The way he pulled her hair and tossed her off the bed. His absolutely cruel rejection of her for years. She knew his minute-by-minute potential for abuse, up close and personal.

Any yet…

"Our happiness is real," she said. "I feel it when we're with each other and I know you do too. It is reliable. We can trust it. I've seen it on you in your smiles, in your laughter… I've felt it in your kisses, in our love-making, in your talks with Jed… with Starr…"

"Your love makes me want to die."

She gasped again, a pained noise that came from the depth of her.

"No, _amor_ , no… love makes you want to live, it's supposed to give you a beautiful reflection of yourself. It's all so twisted for you!" Now she cried. "Todd…how did you get it so wrong? Oh god…god…I don't… I can't… no…no… why can't you—"

She stopped. Just stopped. He was crying. Tears ran down his face and got lost in the beard he wore. His face did not show the pain but his light eyes did. They stabbed into her deeper and more efficiently than any needle could.

She sighed and hugged her knees for long moments. She then took a breath and unfolded herself to move closer to him. She studied the tears and he continued to look at her, into her. She ran a fingertip over his cheek and tasted the salt of the tear.

"He broke you," she said. "Peter broke you in ways we don't even fully understand yet. And every cut he gave worsened with every year you lived, with every failure by anyone who tried to help."

She reached to him again, and caressed his shoulder, the tense muscle straining against the stocking that tied him to the bed. A delusion maybe, but he was like a lashed lion. He could not _really_ hurt her while tied this way. She supposed his one free hand was a bringer of harm. Maybe. She gazed at his relaxed body, at the way he breathed, the shape of everything on him as he lay on the pillows.

He was never harmless. He was always going to be _risky._

A danger. She did not deny it. He was wrong in that.

She ran fingers across his chest, lightly touching his nipples, knowing how sensitive they were. How touching them affected him. He shuddered predictably. She ran fingers down his free arm to his hand and his fingers. And when she looked at him, back at his face, she could see a longing there, such a softness, such a vulnerability, and it amazed her that he could be so affected by her, by the attention of another human being, despite all he said and claimed and believed. She ran her hands across his chest again… and moved to his arm tied at the wrist… so scarred… there.

"I see you as beautiful… and precious… and not ugly… and not monstrous… and no, I don't see you as a scary person. Not inside… not _you_."

He parted his lips in a silent intake of breath… as if he could breathe in what she said… as if it was possible to be loved and not suffer from it. As if he would not be failed by her. Téa leaned in and placed her lips on his. He was hot again… his skin heated by his war with everything around him. She touched his face and he closed his eyes and she pressed again her lips to his.

"Does that hurt?" she asked. "Don't you feel your own beauty? Your own specialness? Is everything I say and do, so futile? So empty?"

"No," he whispered, "no…no…"

She wiped away his stubborn tears, tears that came against his will. She kissed them as they fell onto his lips, as they slipped down further. Kissed them away. She kissed his neck below his ear, kissing towards his shoulder … and she felt him bend to her… his lips touching her hair.

She knew the risk she was taking.

She then wondered if he was right, if she was just like him…willing to risk death for a little peace, for a little bit of happiness…

 _Was he her heroin?_

 **To be continued...**


	8. Chapter 8

**On** **the** **Edge** **of** **Wakefulness** , **Part** **3**

 **Chapter 8**

The two were at an impasse of sorts. Todd's left wrist was well tied to the bedpost and Téa was sitting on folded legs at his side. They held each other's gazes… mirrors to each other.

She wanted to distract him, to show that _she_ held more sway, that she and her great love of him would overpower heroin. She wanted to prove she was not the danger to him, and that he wasn't either.

 _Right?_

She slowly and carefully removed her high-heeled boots. Dropped them to the floor. Her mouth grazed his shoulder and his chest. She nuzzled the hair there. She ran her tongue across his nipples, hearing him grunt softly. With his one free hand, he easily grabbed her around her waist, his large hand pressed on her ribs, and moved her back up to him … and in his hold, she felt light and feathery…

...she felt _breakable_.

She gazed at him and he indulged her a moment, a couple more moments. Then he kissed her… and looked away, looked at the black strip pressing into his wrist, the kiss ending. He twisted his hand in the binding, moving his arm, adjusting something Téa couldn't quite identify. He kissed her again, their tongues intermingling. Kissed her more, kisses gaining in fervor. He breathed harder now… sexual energy beginning to swirl like the beginnings of a hurricane. He eyed the nylon once more, breaking the kiss again, and she felt the erection he'd developed. He groaned… as he moved his hips against Téa's body. She responded, feeling her own storm inside, still hoping she was proving… proving what?

His eyes moved to the black stocking tying him to the bed.

"The strap… it's wrong," he panted, "…I shouldn't…"

"Shouldn't what?"

"This… _this…_ " He moved his hips against her thigh, obviously pointing out his erection, and he whimpered a little, tugging at the restraint. He licked his lips, unable to stop looking at the strap, unable to stop tugging at it.

"Todd…what? Talk to me."

"Pictures in my head and it's not good…no…no…no..."

He felt Téa back off him slightly, her own plans suddenly derailed by his words.

"Wait—"

He groaned again and rolled his eyes, jerking the tie at his wrist. He knew this was not where she had intended things to go. No, no, he was supposed to be feeling her, _them_. This he knew because he _knew_ his wife, knew his Delgado. Recognized her strategy as soon as she kissed his neck and he so wished things would have gone in that direction.

But something got switched.

He returned his gaze to the binding. See, what she didn't know was there was a previously, heretofore unknown, direct connection between the restriction and his erection. The moment she touched his nipples, he felt the binding in a totally different way. He had no idea why or when or what. He had never been tied up in his life— no, that one time in college and it was a rope and it did nothing to him. He was breathing fast. He moved towards it, pulling his whole body up so he could mouth the strap. _Taste it._ He knew that would make the knot harder to untie but he had no control. Just a compulsion. The taste of the nylon and its tightness on his skin sent an electric spark through him… right to his cock.

"Oh… what the fuck…," he groaned.

With misted eyes, he settled back down and saw that Téa was making like she was leaving. He shook his head and reached for her, urging her toward him, "Don't you go," he cursed, fingertips on her shoulder. He needed her now. Really fucking needed her.

"I'm sorry, now I am hurting you and I should just wait for Viki and Tim… I don't want to…"

"Oh no, no, no…don't tell me that…it's too late now…"

"What's too late?"

"This… THIS!"

He reached around her fully now and pulled her to him easily… and she could feel the high sexual tension, she could feel it throughout his quivering body and heard it in his breathing. Breathing that she now _knew_.

"Touch me," he said, imploring her again. He was in real pain… and this was her doing. He knew he should wait, he should _ask…_

He let her go to grab her hand and he made her touch his cock over the fabric of his sweatpants. He moved her hand on him, making her stroke him. He was intensely excited and it was the binding and she had triggered it by kissing his chest, she had struck the match, and the stocking on his wrist was the goddamn kindling, the kerosene.

She didn't resist the aggression, the fact that he engaged her without asking, without a lot of introduction. Téa found herself strangely… _entranced_ by the whole thing. This was very much how he was in Brandy's apartment. This was how he was the first time she'd touched that angry cock.

He moved against her hand, keeping his eyes on hers… then he roughly pushed the sweats down to exposed himself. He pulled her hand to him again, getting her to touch him directly, forcing her hand around him in a tight fist. The contact made him moan. He leaned forward and spit, a long string of saliva hitting his cock to make her stroking of him easier, slicker.

And it was.

"Fuck..." he growled, eyes on the black, as he moved his hips into the wetted fist he made with Téa's hand.

She was trapped in the hurricane now, not physically but by his untethered sexuality. The way he had spit was a raw act that surprised her. It was something he clearly did at other times, many times, that up until this very moment hadn't included her. That was him. That was _historical._ It spoke of two things: masturbation… or… darker, making something wet that wasn't. As in… a woman who wasn't ready. She did not know this side of him very well. Had only caught glimpses of it the entire time she'd known him. She had pretended the thing at Brandy's hadn't happened.

He pulled Téa closer to him and kissed her… and she kissed him back. But he stopped because this was not a love-making moment. It was a purely physical reaction to… _something…_ he wasn't being clear about.

And she knew it wasn't _her_ specifically.

She had been hoping to make him see her, to see their love for each other, rather than any of the ugliness which haunted him… but she understood, that wasn't possible. His mind would keep everything else out. His addiction or his ghosts or his fucked-up-ness overrode everything. It always would. In some ways, this was the entirety of their relationship and all they were trying to teach Jed:

They could not fix him. She could not fix him.

When he pulled himself up again to mouth the nylon, groaning as he did that, his cock twitched in her hand and Téa NOW understood what was happening. The binding was affecting him. He was intensely turned on by the stocking, but she did not think it was pleasurable.

"I need you," he huffed. "Fuck me, yeah, make it stop, yeah?"

"Make what stop… Todd…"

"THIS! Oh fuck, fuck…"

He began to unbutton her pants hurriedly… and she stopped him, her hand holding his with real force, looking at him, "Todd…!"

He wasn't beautiful this way. Téa looked at him, his eyes with those pinpoint pupils, paled skin, beard coming in, that scar. He smelled of sweat and it was different than usual. It was the heroin. It added a sweet quality to the scent. She didn't like it. He was breathing like an animal on a hunt… saliva on his lower lip. He was crazy with whatever was occupying him.

"You put me in this place," he growled… "you made me see things… do this for me."

She still hesitated. This was completely wrong. Inappropriate. Unhealthy. It was a complete dereliction of her responsibilities.

"Please," he repeated in the same growling demanding way. "I am _asking."_

 _Jesus, you'd do anything to have a taste of him, to touch him, to have him touch you. You'd throw away every conviction, every belief, your entire moral foundation… just to have him inside of you. It doesn't even matter where his excitement comes from._

 _You are addicted. He is your heroin._

She let go of his hand and he looked at her intensely as he unbuttoned her fancy suit pants, as he reached inside and touched her buttocks roughly like he had to get to any and all parts of her that were sexual, anything, anything, and then he grabbed her to him again, pressing her to him, bringing her flush up against him. He looked into her eyes and he moved against her, rubbing, animal-like… and he moved her so that her pants were down, lowered, so that she could settle her crotch on his dick and in a minute, they were both grinding against each other. She found herself hanging on to him, holding his shoulders, as if she could be bucked off him. She was shaking with the intensity of it, with the strangeness.

Wanting more, needing her to open up more, he lowered her pants further and pushed down her lacy panties and lifted her up, again like she was light as a feather, like she was nothing, and then with a primal grunt, pushed himself inside of her… and she gasped breathlessly, her incredible wetness shocking her, her own peaking excitement surprising her.

 _My god, you have no lines do you?_

"Oh god," he grunted at the slickness he found, "… fucking god…"

He tore open her blouse, buttons falling off and bouncing away, and he kneaded her breasts, pinching her nipples through the lacy bra, making her whimper despite her not wanting to make any noise… and they moved faster and harder and then he held her again so he could roll over onto her. He twisted in the binding… his wrist still restrained. He lay on her heavily, plunging into her with increasing force. He was noisy, without regard to anything or anyone.

He was beyond selfish. That was the difference. All week he'd been considerate, thoughtful, wanting to make her feel good even when he was chasing the come… but not now. She was only his to use.

And it had made her wet. All of it. Even his ugliness. His selfishness. The madness.

 _Like heroin._

She worked to stay clear-headed but it was difficult… she rolled her eyes at the thickness of him, how deep he was. She was close to an orgasm.

"Todd…," she huffed.

And in her sexual haze, she noticed something… a movement of his eyes… to her legs… and the haze cleared a little and it occurred to her… that maybe he knew she'd put the tiny baggies into her pant pockets… so she manipulated the slacks completely off along with the underwear, trying to move them away. She tried to place her hands on his cheeks to look into his eyes, to see his intent…to see, to see, except his motions were too frenzied and he jerked his head like an angry dog so she couldn't see and despite all logic and all else that flashed through her head, she began to climax, widening her legs now that she was unfettered. She moaned at it, noise that came from her she could not help. He thrust into her as deep as he could, reaching his hand beneath her butt… and shoved a finger deep into her bottom, surprising her, making her groan to distraction.

"Oh god…," she cried out.

Her whole body convulsed wildly, as his unexpected digital manipulation of her made her orgasm blinding. He moved his hand away from her and lifted himself with the restricted arm, his muscles tight and strained… and he said in a deep-throated rumble as he pushed into her…

"You have no idea what I think… what I do…why I do things…"

Shaking her head, she argued weakly, "I do…I know you…"

"Arrogant…" he groaned…shutting his eyes… "So _fucking_ arrogant…"

She tried to rise above the sex because she had to see if she could predict what kind of aggression he'd give her when he was done… but he didn't permit her to look at him, turning away. He kept up the forceful thrusting, pushing her up on the bed. Almost cruelly, he stayed inside her, pressing into her so long that Téa thought she'd burst, before sliding back out and driving into her again just as strongly. After a few more times, she found herself crying out for the pressure… coming so violently again, moaning louder than she wanted because it came from someplace beyond her say.

She wrapped her legs around him… holding him to her, keeping her hands on his waist, moving them lower to his ass to get him to bear down on her. He growled on his drive toward climax, the sound animalistic, giving her what she asked for… until the end, with his eyes on the straining strap—a representation that could only be of the worst kind of violence—when he pounded into her with repeated short strokes, coming hard, heat she could actually feel, and fell, shaking… shuddering… his head lowered onto her shoulder… breathing hard.

Spent… or so it seemed.

The two lay there that way, worn, ravaged, for some moments, Téa feeling the semen spilling out her, along with his cock…. feeling it move out of her…leaving her empty… and suddenly it occurred to her… they hadn't used protection. Not a risk of pregnancy… but still. It hadn't even entered her head.

 _Jesus Christ…_

After more time of coming down, Téa tried to move away from him. Except he grabbed her hands and lifted them high above her head, pinning her to the bed. She could not move. He turned his head towards the restraint and jerked his arm powerfully to get it off. Téa knew what his plan was.

The goddamn pants.

"Oh damn it," she groaned, "Nooooo… no….Todd… no…!" She arched her back, trying to fight him. She could feel his body's wetness, could feel all his muscles tighten as he strained to get the tie undone. He was unstoppable. He grunted loudly with each pull at the strap.

"Shut up," he said, gritting his teeth, working it more, working it, twisting his hand until he had the stretched nylon in his fist and could use more power to yank it off the post, to tear it.

"Todd…please…don't do this," Téa implored desperately. Uselessly.

And with one last forceful grunt, he broke the binding, freeing his hand. Immediately, he went for Téa's pants, reaching, reaching, still holding her, because she'd managed to kick them away but not so far he had to release her. She kicked and wiggled and jerked her body to stop him, "NO!" She screamed to get him off her. "Todd, no!" His strength was unbeatable, though. _Fucking…unbeatable_. And in an instant she thought of Marty Saybrooke and thought of how easy it would have been for him to kill Brandy…

...or her.

He was terribly strong, far more so than she really ever knew. It was actually terrifying. She rested her head back, wishing that power would reach inside of him.

Her face was wet with tears and she knew he didn't want to do this, believing it with everything inside of her… knowing he was driven by something beyond reason, beyond everything, that if he could, he would stop himself. It was hopeless though. At last, he had the packages in his hand…

… and he returned to her, falling on top of her, like she was nothing, her wrists still in his death grip… absolutely pinning her in place. She tried to look at him, but he avoided her eyes.

"What was that, Todd? A manipulation? A game? Just a plot to get to the drugs? Are you now really a whore, no better than Brandy, who can will an erection and have sex… to simply get your drugs? Are you high now, over how easy and stupid I am? Are you wondering how much blood you've taken from me… just for that moment of peace? You FUCKING BASTARD!"

She fought his hold on her. Of course. He clenched the packages in his hand, hearing her, feeling her mad attempt to free herself… and he couldn't stop shaking, breathing fast like a racehorse. He lay harder on her, to stop her, his legs further restraining her. He wanted the drugs safe and now he had them. He tore the stocking off his wrist with his teeth. He eyed the thing, stretched on the bed like a rattler. She stopped fighting.

"Nothing but a trick to get to your real love, huh, Todd?"

"Yeah…that's all it is," he panted. He dropped his head, hiding from her tearful gaze.

"Jesus…" But then in a soft voice, she said, "I know you don't want to do this, but you don't know how to control the craving."

"Oh that's what you think?"

"I know it."

He shook his head… except tears started without his say… and he groaned at them, the frustration thick. He lifted his head and just screamed in her face, a wordless guttural yell that dug into her like a pickaxe and she closed her eyes, tears bursting, because the rage there was awful. Sickening. He yelled again and she choked back the cry as he collapsed on her, his breathing rough, sandpaper rough.

There was nothing to say because there was no soothing that would work.

After a very long while of quiet, Téa said, "You've been trying so hard. You were so close."

He raised stormy eyes to her. He growled, "I was never close to making it. Do you get that? I fucking live for it… it's all I want. It's all I _need._ Heroin is the only thing that _works."_

"Then why did you do this _here_? Why didn't you leave this morning when you had a chance and get to those places downtown? Or rent a room somewhere…why today? Why not yesterday…or all the other days you could have left?"

He spoke raggedly. "You tell me since you know so fucking much."

She whispered, "Because if you left, nobody would have stopped you from doing more, nobody would have caught you. You would have died."

"And what in the glorious fuck does that mean? Nobody stopped me. I got high." he voice was deep and thick with impatience.

"You say I don't know you, that I'm arrogant, but you're wrong. I do know you. You wanted Jed to catch you in the act… you let him pound on that door to mark it… to brand it. You needed to see the damage, you wanted to hear his pain, as a way for you to remember. You hoped it would stop you. You must have been terribly sad that his pain _didn't_ stop you. You must have been devastated when you sat on that bathroom floor and pressed down on that syringe."

He whispered, "Bullshit."

"You needed to tie the two acts together…fuse them together. The pain and joy of a heroin rush, backed up by the audible anguish of your son." She touched the side of his head with her cheek, her tears spreading between them. "And perhaps you needed to _feel_ his agony."

He shuddered and squeezed the packages in his fingers, feeling them. "You talk too much," he murmured. He ran his tongue across his lips, parched for his drug. And yet…he remained in place. Not moving, not running to get done up.

"Just like—"

"More talkin'…"

"Yup," she quipped. "You wanted to tie Jed to heroin same as that picture you keep of you and Brandy. I thought it was for her at first… but I can see that's not true. It's to remind you of your worst. It's to remind you of the hell that world was…to keep you from it."

"Dead wrong."

"Am I? You told me you fantasized about killing her… and yet there's a picture of her in your drawer. Which is it, do you love her…or hate her?"

"Neither…both…" He sniffled, resting his chin on Téa's shoulder, keeping his eyes on the packages.

"So tell me, what connection do you get from me? Or are you not done? You want to hear _my_ cries while you shoot up? _My_ screams?" She gasped slightly, "Oh wait a minute…you already got it… you needed to hear me moaning at your _fucking_ of me…" She paused, rubbing her cheek against his. "And you needed it, because you want to remember how much better it is to be loved for real… as opposed to the fake love you get from being high on heroin."

He kept his hand on her wrists, his arm tight up against her in an almost suffocating clutch. Téa then said, "Listen to me… all you need is to hear me say it. So here it is…I love you…I love you…I love you. Can you feel that? Is it real enough for you? I love you."

She could feel him tighten his hold of her… and adjust himself on top of her… and he kept shaking his head, as if trying to deny everything she said. He reached down and slowly guided himself back inside of her and then moved until he got a full erection and Téa lay there and let him slide in and out of her, saying nothing other than she loved him. Whispering the words over and over and over, she watched him as he rocked his hips…and when he finally looked her in the eyes… she asked, "Does it hurt? Does it hurt to hear those words? Does it hurt to feel me beneath you? Is blood spilling from my loving you the way I do? Huh? Are you dying because you love me the way you do? Do you want to kill me now?"

He ignored her questions, his face showing some ill-defined emotion, as he continued to thrust into her. He pressed the small packages together in his fingers… rubbing them until one of the bags opened and the powder spread about the pillows. Dropping one still-intact bag, he continued to push into her as he tasted the powder on his fingers. He ran his fingertips through the fine layer of the lost drug…and ran his fingers across Téa's lips, watching her instinctively lick her lips. She quirked at the taste, keeping her eyes on him.

He did it again, put more powder on her lips. He kissed her lips at that, a long lingering kiss. Then he pressed his newly-dusted finger into her mouth and she turned her head, wiping her mouth, her tongue, on his arm like she could wipe off the heroin… but he bent to her and licked her lips, pushing his tongue into her mouth, attempting to get what she didn't. He re-dusted his finger and brought it to their joined mouths… and she groaned a long, "Nooo, Todd, no." But no matter, there it was, the bitterness of the heroin inside her now. Between them. He drew away his hand, holding her. She caressed hot tears off his face with her own cheek. The pain was evident… his life was hell.

"I love you," she said. "I will fight for your life…for ours…and I'll spill more blood to have you next to me, whole…forever. And I do it, because I know to the core of myself that you'd rather have the peace you get from this life…from our life, as opposed to the one with her…with your other bitch of a love, _heroin_. Tell me, isn't this kind of death better than what she promises?"

He took her hand and pressed it against his cheek, looking into her eyes… then he released her fully. He rolled to her side. And when she asked him quietly, "Does my love hurt?"

All he could do was say, "No."

* * *

The telephone rang and rang, but Téa didn't move to get it, because she'd have to leave him since he'd long unplugged the one next to his bed. And she didn't want to leave his side, not because she didn't trust him, but because she didn't want to separate from him. Because he wouldn't let her leave. She and Todd lay in the messed up bed, in each other's arms, watching one another…at a crossroads. She'd told him about the choice he had to make and he found himself unable to decide. They drifted with conversation, as if floating along a crooked stream on a lazy summer day.

The unspilled bag of heroin lay only inches away from them. He'd look at it every so often.

"How did it start? For so long we couldn't make love… why her?"

He sighed and touched her face, wishing he could change things. The drug still called to him, but he shushed the voice. Focused on the feel of Téa next to him, the feel of her love that was as strong as anything he'd ever known. Shrugging, he said faintly, "I was…high…like now. Only more…better. And she touched me…and my body reacted and before long, I needed to do it. I needed to finish… it felt good. I wanted anything that felt good. But it didn't really last."

"What do you mean?"

"It got ugly, Téa …sex with us was ugly and violent… nothing but a way to connect. To feel human I guess, in some sick… way." He looked away from her, as if Téa could hear his thoughts, the deafening howl stirred by the memory of he and Brandy engaging in their perverse sexual activity…

Téa was quiet. And she placed her hand on his heart, feeling it beating, feeling each thump… she could feel his pain. But she could also imagine Brandy's pain. She didn't want to think about it.

"And now," she asked gently, "Do you think of her? You said…"

"Yes…I think of her. You'll take it wrong…"

"No. You keep avoiding this. There's nothing to avoid. I want everything out in the open."

He hesitated and rolled onto his back, staring upwards. "I feel her…not like you…but in another way. I dream of her, I hear her screaming when she's being raped, but her screams aren't those of a grown woman. They're of her as a girl, as a boy. I know her torture…because I tortured her, because I was tortured, too. I hate her, I love her…you were right. I see myself in her. And I wish what I see in her would die."

"Still?"

"Still…always."

"Do you want to go back to her? I mean…"

He didn't let her finish. "Yeah, Téa, but only because of the heroin she gives me." He studied her. Then he shook his head, and said very quietly. "You should be scared."

"I am. I'm afraid of you and your addiction. I'm afraid that you might want to kill me… for stopping you. For trying."

"I don't _want_ to hurt you. Ever." He wasn't finished with the thought. There was an unsaid… _but_ … After a bit, he said in a ragged quiet voice, "Some things can't be helped."

"Todd…"

"I want what you want more than anything, Delgado. I want peace…here with you. And Jed…he's gotten to me, you know. Starr doesn't need me, she has Blair. Jed, though, he has nobody. Even if we find Michelle alive… I think he'll stay here. I think. Maybe not. And if she's not alive…"

"You really believe she survived?"

"Jed feels it, I don't doubt it. I survived death, why wouldn't she? She wasn't a puss…"

Téa laughed, and held him, burying her face into the warmth of his neck despite everything. Despite his… _likes._ She realized in that moment, she didn't believe him.

"Of course, she wasn't. You'd never love…a puss."

He was quiet a moment…then, "I have more dope downstairs, you know."

"Oh my god, you really did clean out Pennsylvania."

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Somewhere in my desk. I'm hoping you won't find it. Just in case… just in case I ever need it."

"When did you do this?"

"Did it all last week." He swallowed hard and wiped some tears that forced their way out. He so wanted it. Wanted to get out of bad and dose up. His high had faded a while ago. But…voices hummed in his head. And tired him out, drained him. Jed, Téa, Viki, Sam, even Tim.

"Is Brandy doing okay, Téa?"

A switch. Téa breathed in, steadying herself.

"Yes…she's getting herself on her feet…and she's doing really well. She reads well, too, skipping along the educational program… but..."

"But what?"

"I'm greedy…I don't want to tell you more, because I'm afraid."

"Tell me what?"

Téa sighed, then went ahead and told what she knew. "She cries for you at night. Viki has heard her. She suffers…for her _other half_. Todd, she miscarried. She was pregnant."

"Oh…" He shuddered and grunted softly, rolling away from Téa.

"Todd?"

Seconds rolled by until he whispered, "Why didn't anybody tell me?"

"Because… of this hurt you're feeling."

"Why are you telling me now?"

"Because you need to go into this program…with no secrets or lies…and you need to go with your mind clear…or at least with full awareness. If you need to be with Brandy, if you need her in your life more than the way it is now… you have to face that. I have to face that."

The air in the room felt heavy and Todd curled up tighter…covering his head with his hands to quiet the noise Téa had put into his mind. He wasn't angry with her. He imagined nobody would have wanted to tell him because of course, it was complicated. They'd have had to wait months before they could have learned whether it was Todd's child or not. And by that time, it would have been too late to abort what would basically be a child of rape by whatever john had impregnated her. On the other hand, he felt positive the baby had been his. And the fact that she miscarried only confirmed it in his head, how ruined he and Brandy were. Of course they could create no children, they were poison for each other, they were poison, period. It made him so sad…so…sad. When he felt Téa's arms around him, he had a kind of horrible revelation.

He sat up quickly and with wide eyes, he said, "I don't want her to die."

"She won't…"

"Yeah, she might. She lost a baby…oh god, she would have wanted it so much."

He stared at the space in front of him, his eyes darting back and forth, and he looked at Téa, "We didn't use any birth control today…are you okay? Jed will hate us if there's another kid…"

"I'm on birth control, it's okay…and all your tests came back negative… we're okay."

"Téa, is she ever going to find peace? How can I…if she doesn't?" He looked so childlike to her, in his worry. And Téa knew at that moment, that he truly saw her as his sibling from hell. He did not love her like she thought. She memorized the look on his face so she would never forget it. It spoke of nothing adult, nothing healthy…they were two destroyed children chained together and they would always be.

"I think…I think, Todd…she really needs you to be okay. I think she's been hurting so much because she knows you've been. I think the baby…I think she was relieved that it was gone because she wasn't sure it was yours…"

He crawled back under the covers, clearly upset. Quietly, though, he asked, "This place you want me to go to… tell me about it."

As Téa went on, telling him some of the details of the program, he thought of Jed… thought of him in the bowels of Llanview, tied up. He remembered the feel of killing Phillip and he worried he'd be found out. He remembered Brandy coming out of the dark, howling like a wounded animal as she stabbed Phillip over and over again. And he remembered how he treated her…how bad it got. How could she cry for him? But he knew her addiction… he knew the addiction to pain all too well. And he hated the things he got from that…because is some ways, he was addicted to inflicting pain. Tim had told him it was from a need to control everything around him, to prevent damage to him…Todd was the king of the pre-emptive strike. Which is why Phillip's death slid off his back…like water off a duck…Phillip's death was pure justice.

He wanted to get high. He hated the hurt he lived with.

"It's in West Virginia."

He turned over, regarding Téa, "Huh?"

"The program… it's located in Fayetville. Right at the base of the mountains… right above the New River."

He sat up…

"Yes, you can get well and on your down time, you can search for Michelle… for you and for Jed."

"Shit…"

"What?"

"You've actually made a long-term residence program for drug addiction sound… good."

Téa chuckled and she squeezed him tightly, feeling him do the same back to her.

He shook his head, looking at her, "I still think you're very strange for loving me. You hear all this crap coming from me, and still… you say…"

"I love you."

"I love _you_."

They watched each other…and let the telephone ring and ring. Téa didn't need anyone's help anymore. She'd gotten all the help she needed and it had come from Todd.

* * *

The penthouse was quiet, and the moon lit up the living room in a ghostly white. Téa walked the perimeter, measuring the distance with her feet. Heel to toe, heel to toe. Jed had come home first thing in the morning. The moment Todd arrived in West Virginia the previous night, accompanied by the Granite House counselors, the moment they faxed his admittance papers, Téa turned right around and woke up everyone she knew to get Jed released. And they did get him home by nine o'clock in the morning. Disbelieving that Todd had actually done it. He'd looked at Téa and said, "For me?"

"Yes, for you. He did it… for you. For all of us… and for himself."

She stopped at the window and found she missed him. It would be thirty days before they could see him. Or even talk to him. He was mostly worried about that… he hated the idea of not being allowed the contact. In the past, his disappearing for months and months had always been his decision, but the moment someone took the right away, he resented it. He'd talked to Brandy before he left…hunched over, listening to her…and he cried because he told her he knew about the baby… and it made him sad. But by the end of the conversation, he had seemed okay.

They'd made a kind of peace…and earlier, Viki told Téa, that for the first time in a while, Brandy hadn't cried out at night for Todd… for her brother in hell.

Téa looked at the ring on her hand…and thought of Todd's…which he'd kept through everything. She hoped he'd stick it out…she had to believe he would.

It was all anyone could do.

 _Hope_.

 **To be continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 9**

 _I see the blue ahead of me, a tunnel through the seemingly impenetrable wall of thick, black smoke. I'm the last one left of my squadron. I'm working the controls, except they're sticky, resistant, making me think what it must be like to drive a tank. I'm firing the machine gun… rat-a-tat-tat. I'm going to make it down, I know it, but I have to take care of the enemy on my tail. My ship's been hit, I think, because the heat's suffocating me. I should eject… I should jump, float toward the dreamy green meadow below. But I can't. Gotta swing upwards, straight up…and back around…I'll fire from behind. He'll never know what hit him… and then I'll make it home. I'll do all that because I'm the Red Baron… and I can do anything._

Granite House was everything Téa had promised: a sprawling maze of architectural prettiness which sat at the base of the mountain range in Fayettville, West Virginia, and overlooked the New River. If you held your breath, if you paid attention, you could hear the mad roar of the water below.

The surroundings were beautiful and inspiring, a much needed backdrop to a hospital booked solid with struggling addicts— drugs and alcohol, mainly. Every kind of drug was represented: cocaine, benzos, opiates, heroin, methamphetamine, and amphetamines. Marijuana, too, but never on its own. Weed was always the dessert to dinner…the milk to the cookies… the veggie dip to the prime rib.

And almost every one of those residents had some horror story waiting to be told about what brought them to Granite House—the Rock to the familiars—and what put them firmly into the arms of addiction in the first place.

The counselor in charge of new residents, Gilbert Balsa, explained some of the ins and outs to Todd when he brought him into the sick ward at 12:30 a.m. on that first night of arrival, but the words really didn't mean anything because he was so focused on just _being_ in the place. The decision to come had been quick, the private jet made available even quicker. He barely had time to pack. He heard last stop, rock bottom, Pluto…

Just words.

As the guy opened the door to the room Todd would be in for the next seven days, Gilbert said Dr. Tim Graham was a good egg… and that Todd had gotten here thanks to his recommendation.

"Can't get to Granite House without a doctor's okay."

Then he handed Todd a mild oral analgesic, smiled, and said, "Hang in there, bud… it's going to be a long seven days but you'll get through it. We all do." With a wave and wink, he closed the door to Todd's room, leaving him there with the beginning of withdrawals which were heating up fast. Todd climbed into the bed, a little scared and really wishing his life were different.

Four hours later, he was up and vomiting… and the nightmare of kicking started all over again.

The rooms in the closed-off detoxification wing were no different than those in any other hospital ward. They were plain, undecorated, with a small bathroom. During the day he could shuffle to a sunroom where there were books and a big TV. The strange thing was that Todd wasn't allowed any contact with other patients… in fact, he was so isolated he got a spacey feeling from the place, as if the whole thing was some sort of alien cover-up… or a lavish kidnapping. His paranoia grew to an amazing height while sick, thinking of every plot known to man that could be happening while locked away. He even wondered if Phillip was behind this. Maybe he hadn't killed him. Crazy thinking. But… where _were_ all the other patients? Often he found himself just listening to see if anyone was alive, all to no avail.

Throughout the entire week, the only people he saw were Gilbert, Noah Schultz (another counselor), and a housekeeper, a Pakistani woman who always looked terrified and never her let her guard down throughout her visit. Which didn't help matters.

She'd scurry into the room with a mop, a cart with cleansing materials, and linens. Everything would get cleaned fast, the bathroom, the fixtures, the floor. If Todd wasn't in bed, if he was huddled on the small sofa in the room, she'd change the sheets fast like everything else. If he _was_ in bed, however, and several times he had been, she'd hiss in a heavy accent while pointing a toilet plunger at him, "Get off the bed! Get off! No touch me or I call security!" Finally, she'd switch the towels and scurry out just the way she came in.

One paranoid person feeding another.

Twice he tried to get out… because he couldn't do it, couldn't take being sick, couldn't take the fear.

The first time he walked out of the room and just started booking it. He ran like hell down the hall, eyes on the green _EXIT,_ gonna get the fuck out, ran until thick-armed Noah tackled him, arms tight around him, holding him hard to the floor, while Todd screamed bloody murder. The guy kept saying right in his ear, right through those screams, "It's okay, bud, it's okay, I know, I know, I got ya, come on…it's okay, it's okay..." And it was like being back at Llanview psych and it reminded him of that orderly and his favorite Doctor Graham. He felt the kindness break through, felt the safety of where he was… and he devolved into gut-wrenching sobs that lasted a long goddamn time. Noah never let him go. After a bit of cheer, promises of happier times, love, and visions of his family, Noah got him to give it another go. Noah was nice and smiley… sickeningly sweet… with a strength that matched Todd's and that was a good thing. So okay, Todd wanted to believe Granite House was a good place and he wanted to get clean and so he gave in.

 _For Jed, for Starr…for Téa._

Second time he thought to climb out of the window and was really pissed that it was barred. So he took the one chair in the room and banged it against the window repeatedly until the glass shattered into a million pieces. At first he'd hit it out of frustration with being alone, with being sick and afraid and wanting to get out. Then the window became every single person who'd ever done him wrong beginning with Peter, then Bitsy, then Phillip…and those bitches who mocked him and made him crazy…and…and lastly, the window became his own addiction. He found himself angry at heroin… for being so goddamn good, for finally, FINALLY, giving him what he'd sought his whole fucking life: _peacefulness_.

When Gilbert came in, he saw the mess and commented that it must have been one of the older windows because none of the new ones break like that.

"You did a hell of a job."

Todd then demanded methadone, heroin itself, anything, anything, _anything_ to take away the hurt. He said he was going to leave Granite House even if it was on a stretcher, "Is that what you want? You want me DEAD? Because I'll do it and it'll be all your fuckin' FAULT!"

From the doorway, Gilbert looked at Todd's heaving and sweaty bare-chested self, crystal bits glimmering in his hair. He studied reddened eyes, surveyed the broken glass, and said coolly, "Mmmm…okay. Lord knows I'd hate to have your death on our record. I mean, we already lost one patient and that was difficult enough on everyone. I'd hate to make it two."

"Probably denied some poor shit a dose of methadone…huh? You _fucks_!"

"He was gardening… saw an old syringe… and went for it. Unfortunately, he stepped on the rake so hard, the wooden handle popped up and split his skull. Killed him instantly. And the worst part was that we didn't find him for two days, poor bastard."

"Oh fuck off!"

Gilbert chuckled, looking a little guilty for mocking Todd at his time of desperation, but then got serious. Deadly serious. He took a breath, narrowing his eyes. He smoothed his long black hair which was pulled into a ponytail.

"I can give you a dose of methadone. You'd have to go home for your next one 'cause we don't do the _program_ here. But you know what I've seen? Folks who leave the Rock during the first week? They almost always end up in jail. Or dead. Nah… the deaths of our residents…don't happen here."

"Whatever."

"You don't get it. If you don't make this round, you won't make anything."

"Fuck you…you're just trying to scare me."

Gilbert laughed. "Yeah, I'm trying to scare _you,_ someone who's been in prison, who's faced the worst kind of shit in his childhood, and later, in the shooting galleries. Someone who made himself something on his own. I'm trying to scare a guy who everyday sticks a needle in his arm, two, three, four times, never knowing which hit will be the last. Yeah….I'm trying to scare _you_."

Todd sniffed, kicking the glass with his socked foot. "I never been in a shooting gallery, whatever that is… or prison… and I didn't make myself anything… you don't know shit about me. You don't know anything." The last word he spit out like poison.

"I don't know anything, huh, and that's because you're so different… you're so… mysterious."

"Yeah… you don't know me… and if I walk out of here, I'll be fine! I'll…I'll get on methadone again. I'll do everything right. I'll go to those meetings… I will. You don't know me. You don't know shit!" Todd stood there, shaking with determination. He was going to make it outside of this lock-up hell. He was.

Gilbert moved towards Todd, arms tattooed with tribal symbols at his side, polo shirt emblazoned with GRANITE on the front. His face was brown and gentle-looking. "Behold the power of observation," he said softly. He then knocked back his head a bit and eyed the patient.

"The clothes you came in with, the ones on now… that's some expensive shit. Sure, they look like any old pair of jeans…but they ain't from the Gap. So you got money. More than most."

Gilbert eyed him some more, up and down. "Your long hair… you can't wear a do like that in a bank or a law firm… and you ain't a doctor or a dentist. So… you made your money doing something independent. Whatever it is… you did it on your own terms. And it survived your drug use 'cause you still have your money. Still got these nice jeans. That says a lot about what you set up."

"Whatever… maybe I inherited all my money."

"Maybe." Gilbert slowly walked around Todd who didn't have a shirt on, the glass crunching beneath his shoes. Todd followed him with his eyes…until Gilbert made a full circle of him. "But you were in prison, not a county or city jail… and that Reaper dude, that's more than six months time. That's very unusual for a silver spoon kid, if that's true. Adds to the childhood hell because… why didn't your daddy buy your freedom or buy you city jail time?"

Todd said nothing.

"So your money that you got now… tells me you brought yourself up after prison. You got money later, maybe seed money or inheritance. Either way, you made yourself into something. Tells me what you're capable of."

Gilbert then took Todd's hand into his, Todd letting him, strangely wanting the touch, the warmth. The counselor looked into eyes which were sad and full and hopeless. He pointed out the scars there, not the suicide scar but the others, running his fingertip all up the zipper-like line. The track marks.

"How many times did you hit that vein in one day? How long did you lie around doing nothing but shooting up? The darker the mark, the dirtier the needle was, the more dull the spike, and you didn't have anything to clean yourself up with after the hit." He sighed. " _That_ , my man, tells me you were in a shooting gallery. Often."

He let go of Todd's arm, Todd immediately folding his arms into himself… hiding, keenly aware of the cold air in the room.

Gilbert looked at him directly, shaking his head sadly, "All that money, all that independence and bootstrappin'… and you ain't no different than some poor fuck below the tracks who spends his time in a run-down, rat-infested hole in the wall…fucked-up. No future. No past. No love. Nobody. Nothing but dope." Gilbert shrugged, sniffing… "You were desperate to feel good. And _that_ tells me… your childhood had to be hell, real hell. You were running and running hard."

Todd just stared at him before glancing away. Was he so easy to read? An open book. A trash can spilling over.

Gilbert crossed his arms and sighed. "But…if you really want…yeah…I can let you walk outta here. No skin off my back."

"I'll make it out there," Todd said, trying to believe it. "I don't care what you say….I have a family… and they know I can do this."

"Yeah? Do they?"

Todd looked wary. The tears were close. He was exposed. His history on the floor all around him. All over him. Sure, everyone believed in him. Téa …that day he got here, she didn't call anyone because she knew he'd make the right decision… right?

"Then tell me why you're here, specifically at Granite."

"A court thing…a deal."

Gilbert flashed a compassionate expression at Todd, his whole face softening at how innocent Todd sounded, as if he _had_ been tricked, kidnapped. He almost didn't want to lay it out as plainly as he had to. But Todd needed to fully understand why he was here, because if he didn't, he really had no chance.

"Listen to me…'cause I can see you _still_ don't get it." Todd visibly swallowed and gazed at Gilbert… paying full attention with rounded eyes, tears glistening in them. He rubbed his lips together, childlike.

"Granite House is the end of the road," Gilbert said, "the last stop, rock bottom. Pluto. You're here 'cause your doctor doesn't believe you can get well any other way. You're here 'cause your family's basically said, you're dead. The addiction's already killed you and… this is one last chance at reviving you. In the eyes of your doctor and your family, you're a corpse."

"But…I only messed up once."

"You might have, but to them, the one mess-up… proved beyond a doubt you were beyond their hope. They don't believe you can fight your addiction anymore."

A fly had flown in through the open window, buzzing around, vulture-like. Todd watched the black insect. He began to understand what Granite House… _was_. It wasn't a hospital. It was a morgue with a few technicians hoping to get some of the dead to come around again.

One last chance.

The fly landed on the window sill. Its wings moving, its legs twitching, as if it had landed on some rotting meat… except there was nothing there for the bug to devour.

"This is it, Todd. Granite House is IT. Next stop… the cemetery—where reviving isn't possible."

Todd had looked away, hugging himself, and plopped down on the floor in the middle of the mess. Found himself staring at the grey sky and remembering Brandy and the graffiti on the walls and dumpsters in alleys and Toby's and Phillip at that apartment. Remembered what he'd been willing to do to get some cash, what he was willing to let happen to get dope, to stay high. _Running and running hard._ Phillip was a stranger to him, the Rock, but at least he had a name. Toby's didn't allow for that luxury. He couldn't even say how many strangers he interacted with much less their names.

If he left, how many more strangerswould there be down the line? How many more would he _interact_ with? How long before he finally takes the hot shot? The cemetery… next stop is the cemetery. But isn't that what he always wanted?

 _I'm dead in their eyes. Already dead._

Gilbert got down to Todd's level, squatting. "Look at me…"

Todd slowly shifted his hazel eyes to the counselor.

"I'm not saying they don't love you, man. They haven't abandoned you, but they're waiting to see if you wake up. They're holding their breaths and standing by to see if the electroshock is gonna work. Once they know the answer, they'll be able to breathe again."

Already dead… no different than some poor fuck. He missed Téa, missed the bit of life they were trying to create together... but mainly… he missed the drugs. Missed being fucked-up. He could practically smell the vanilla of Brandy's hair as she bent over him, sticking the needle into his vein. This hurt. It hurt bad. The things _this_ stranger was telling him cut deep.

 _The last stop. Rock bottom. The last chance. Pluto. Next, the cemetery._

"Three more days, Mr. Manning… then you'll get some relief. You'll have company and a bit more entertainment than this lonely TV, than the mountains and sky through these windows. You're gonna learn what it's like to have people really pulling for you, people like you… people who know, really, really know, what hell your life is, what it's been. You will not be alone."

The tears rolled off Todd's face, fat drops of salt that he tasted. "I don't believe that."

"Yeah, I know. We all think we're the only ones. But you'll see. Now… get up… before you get more hurt… so we can clean up."

 _And he did. For himself._

So he stuck it out, made it through the remaining three days, feeling only the mildest of symptoms. Like the tail-end of a really bad flu.

The turn around had been significant. He'd woken up the morning of that last day… and wow… he felt better. The symptoms were lessening. The nausea had passed, the shakes and sweats had passed, the cramps were tolerable…

...he saw some light.

When at last he was led out of the sick-ward on the morning of his eighth day, Gilbert patted him on the back and nodded and smiled at him. And with a kind of ceremony, he showed him a bracelet. He took Todd's wrist into his hand and hooked the thing on him.

Todd sort of chuckled at it, confused by it. He raised his arm to study the thin black cord, noting one smooth black and white bead strung on it. He assumed the coloring was meant to imitate the black and white of granite.

Gilbert explained, "You get one bead for each week you're here. By the end of the ninety days…you'll have a whole string…an uninterrupted circle. One that'll never be broken up by the black space of addiction. If you're willing."

The two men walked along the hallway of the sick ward. He heard the cries of someone, a man, behind a shut door. And it was disturbing. He wasn't sure he had heard that kind of noise before. Even at the psych ward… couldn't remember.

A person grows up accustomed to hearing a woman cry, the way she exhales at the end of a wail, the intake of breath before it breaks out again. To hear a man do it was different. Especially when one understood the source of the hurt. Todd glanced at Gilbert a moment, his discomfort palpable.

"Yeah…he's going through what you did…yesterday was his first day. Dude's been on meth for five years…he's forty…he's lost everyone. His kids, his wife, his job…he's penniless."

It was the story of late-night TV ads and yet Todd felt it deep. He got curious though. "How's this place supported? How are you helping a guy with no money?"

Gilbert laughed a little at the topic switch. When all else fails, ask about the money. "Combination of government funding and a shit load of private donations. We got some amazing benefactors. We're talking millions every year."

"Graduates?"

"Yeah…. graduates… and some parents or family of graduates… and some parents or families of those who didn't make it."

"You mean dead…outside…"

"Yeah."

Todd stopped walking, turning to Gilbert. "Did you really figure out all that stuff about me just by looking? Or do you have a secret file from my doctor?"

Smiling, Gilbert said, "I really did guess. I was right, I take it?"

Todd nodded. "Tip of the iceberg but… yeah."

"You rose up once. You can do it again."

They came to a closed set of double doors. "This is where I let you off, bud. Walk right to the receptionist, straight ahead to Doris. She'll direct you to your new room, she'll give you some reading to do and let you know your schedule." He stuck out his hand, looking Todd in the eyes, "Welcome to the rest of your life."

"Will I see you again?"

"Maybe… I'm doing this area for a while…we all switch off."

Todd looked at the doors, knowing the significance of his walking through them. He looked up and saw painted words:

 _Granite House, where Love, Acceptance, and We Live._

"We?" Todd asked.

"We…the essential and true _you_."

With that, Todd took a breath and pushed open the doors, saying, " _Hasta la vista_."

* * *

Walking through those doors was like a movie….like coming upon a hidden city… like that moment in the Wizard of Oz where everything comes into focus in color. There were so many people, so much activity, so much… noise. And not one indication of it with his first introduction to Granite House.

As he walked towards the central station, towards Doris, people said nice things as they passed him, like, "Great job..."

"Welcome."

"Wowee… such a cutie pie…"

"Oh hey _papi_ …"

It embarrassed him, the attention. In the shadow of these people, he kept going back to what Gilbert said, that everyone here was on the precipice, at a point where they could either jump or step back. Every single one who said something to him was a hard-core addict and every one of them had been damaged in some way. First Téa in the safety of the penthouse, and now Gilbert, said, "They're like you, Todd."

 _Like him_ …

… and with that, he cringed. A buzzing in his head started up. Found himself slipping into an old comfortable cave of denial. _I'm not like them. I'm just a dope addict. That's all. Nobody knows me…I just like being high._

"Congrats, newbie."

He nodded, just barely, a "thank you" at the pretty face who'd said that to him. Then he glanced around, waiting to get the attention of Doris who was on the telephone. Heard a male voice behind him, say, "Always good to see a first bead-er…"

A friend commented though as they both walked past him, "'A first bead-er'? And what does that make you…an eleven bead-er…how stupid is that?"

"No, no, I'm a _master-bead-er_ …"

Peals of laughter followed, a high-five, and the two went on to wherever they were going. That was not what he ever saw at the psych ward. People were too sick there to make friends. Todd couldn't remember the last time he really had friends. Oh yeah… the fraternity. Suddenly he felt a little sick. He rubbed his stomach, still feeling mild aches of withdrawal. Felt aches for lots of things, none of which were here.

Doris finally rolled her chair over to him, smiling hugely. She reminded Todd of the nun at the shelter, the one who'd taken him in on that cold night so long ago. Not physically, more her attitude, She was dressed casually and had blue-black hair that hung down to her shoulders.

"You must be Todd Manning," she said. "Welcome to Granite House."

"Thanks," Todd murmured. "I'm kinda lost."

"Yeah, sweetie… the first days here can be a bit overwhelming, but think of it as a large family. Everyone here has a common purpose, a common goal. It'll be alright." She was picking at a computer keyboard, studying the screen. She spoke to Todd as she worked, "And if you're ever feeling down, or blue… just turn to the person next to you. Or find a counselor. Tell them. They'll listen… and remember to do the same for another resident if they turn to _you_." She popped her head up. "Ahhh… here you are." She typed a bit more and then reached to the far side of the counter. She handed him a large packet along with a bag of goodies and a thick luxurious bath towel.

She continued to pull together still more paperwork, alternating with data input, and Todd took the moment to peruse the place.

It looked like a huge mountain cabin with lots of exposed beams and river rock. Posters, drawings, paintings, and plants decorated the indoors… and the windows, unbelievable windows showing an amazing property beyond them. Trees, greenery, massive boulders, some of granite, obviously the namesake of the place. A creek nestled among the trees. It was nothing short of amazing.

But mostly, the people impressed Todd. A cross-section of any city: white, red, yellow, brown, black, rich, poor, punk, inner-city, business-looking types…everything. He noticed a few chit-chatting around a table. Two guys played what looked like chess in another corner. Across the room, an argument ensued between a Black woman and a Hispanic guy, both looking like college professors with others listening. He couldn't tell what it was about other than it was intense. That's when Todd noticed a sign… one that popped up a couple of times he just realized: no swearing or war stories.

"No war stories," he said to Doris. "What does that mean?"

"Oh you know, those stories loved by all…the remembrances of the good old days when you were using drugs or drinking and funny things happened. Stories that glorify substance abuse and warm the cockles of your heart."

He nodded, getting it. He didn't have a single war story to share. Nothing warm. Nothing funny.

She winked at him and told him to fill out the questionnaires when he got a chance.

"You have a meeting in an hour with your counselor and the rest is outlined for you in the schedule. You'll see it. It's on the green paper. Your room is up those stairs to the left, all the way down the hall. Lunch is in the dining hall over that way. Noon."

"Um…thanks, I guess."

Easily enough, Todd found his room. He had no idea the layout of Granite House, but there had to be more dormitory-style sleeping quarters elsewhere since this section seemed to be fairly small. It looked to be ten rooms at the most. Maybe twelve.

His duffel bag was already there, the one he brought with him originally. He threw everything else down on what he assumed to be his bed. Plunked himself down there, too. Todd was relieved but only because he was seeing that indeed Granite House was a lively, populated place where people actually lived. He hadn't been kidnapped nor was this an alien cover-up.

"Small fuckin' favors," he sighed as he unpacked the goody bag. He found snacks, a set of headphones, an old school iPod, a silky eye mask and ear plugs. He sighed. They spoke of a long ride, miles to go. On each side of the room there was a closet, and a desk/bookshelf.

The other half of the room obviously belonged to his roommate. The desk had stuff on it, books, pens, pencils, rulers, and a stack of drawing paper. Architectural drawings decorated the wall which looked pretty good actually. God, it had been years since he shared a room with another guy. He shuddered. Glad for the ear plugs.

He sat a bit and studied his bracelet… a first bead-er. He chuckled at what he had to look forward to, to being a _master-bead-er._ Stupid joke that made him laugh and shake his head. Then he didn't.

He grabbed up the handbook to read. He saw that if he was good, he'd get time off, a weekend here and there. At the end of the twelve weeks, he could continue on as outpatient if he accomplished certain goals and tasks. Otherwise, he had the option of staying another thirty days, until he could accomplish those things. Then he was on his own. Outpatient was the only choice after that. Or if he was using again, he could be readmitted and start the whole process over again. He wondered if that happened very often. Gilbert made it sound like the answer was, no.

So here it was…he'd managed to survive the week. Seven whole days… and totally drug-free other than his usual meds. Tonight it would be eight days. He'd been drug-free for a couple of months before the mess-up but… this felt different. He didn't know why. Could be the lack of methadone which was just another version of heroin.

He still had cravings, though, pretty intensely. Hanging on those bars a little. Gilbert mentioned that if the cravings continued, he might be eligible for special medication because if they go on beyond ten days… into weeks or months…he might have something called prolonged withdrawal syndrome. Meaning basically, his body didn't want to give up heroin, wanted it far beyond being clean of it.

He wanted to tell Gilbert to shove his prolonged withdrawals up his ass. He was born with this craving. Only recently had it become attached to something tangible and solid. Prior to that…it was just a craving for something unknown.

The sky was kind of blue today, a blue breaking through darkish clouds, and from this side of the hospital, he could see the mountains… they were breathtaking. He walked over to the window and slid it open, a cold blast of air hitting him. He could see how far the mountain range went in both directions. There was still snow on them. He thought of Michelle up there and realized the hope of finding her was probably tantamount to the ranting of a lunatic. How the hell was he really gonna find a red-haired, freckled girl who was all grown up and looked a little like Jed… up _there_?

He was nuts, he figured. A raving lunatic.

He wished he knew how everyone was at home. They probably were like how Gilbert said, figuring him for dead. He felt a let down at that. Was it true? Had his break at the penthouse really killed off everyone's hope? He had absolutely no idea and while he could ask, all he'd probably get was, "They're fine and wish you all the best." He wouldn't be able to talk to them for another three weeks. Seemed like forever. Which depressed him and like a Pavlovian dog, the depression of it made him want Brandy…and heroin. Hand in hand the desire went. He doubted these feelings would ever go away.

The door opened suddenly and in ambled a tall, lanky guy. He had on ragged black jeans with a plain black tee-shirt. Green skater shoes. Todd noticed he had holes up and down his ears but no jewelry on. He also had plenty of tattoos. Todd couldn't tell the difference like Gilbert could…he didn't know if this guy got them in prison or at the local parlor.

"Morning," the guy said in a morose tone. He looked to be about Todd's age. Todd grunted a salutation, stepping over to his bed and lying down with his hands behind his head, but keeping his eyes on his roommie. Didn't want to totally alienate him, but didn't feel much like talking either.

"Name's Mason, been here three weeks. What do you call yourself?"

"Lately…a fuckin' loser."

Mason laughed a little, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know how that is. I mean…like legally."

"Todd."

"Ohhhh I knew a Todd once. Skydiver. That didn't end well."

He grinned, eyes kind of raking down Todd's body, looking at the boots. Guy's face struck Todd as kind of impish. Something in the smile made Todd think he was a bit of a troublemaker. He shook his head and abruptly wanted to sleep.

"So, what's your poison? No…wait…lemme guess. This is my favorite part. Lemme see… you're kinda underfed…you're sort of down in your mood…yeah… you're a…mmmm…."

"Heroin."

"SHIT! I was gonna say that, man. You're impatient… makes me think speed. You sure it was heroin you were on?"

Todd laughed in spite of himself. "Yeah…I'm sure."

"So have you met our counselor, Busy?"

"Busy? Fuck kinda name is that?"

"Oh she picked it out herself when she was like ten and it ended up sticking. Anyways, just be prepared for the 'pebbles' talk."

"What's that?"

"See… Granite… Rock… you know?" He shook his bracelet. "We're the pebbles. Little broken pieces of the big Rock. And one day, we will go out into the world, whole pebbles, retaining the inspiration and morals and light and beauty of that which we have been broken off from… the Granite of Granite House." He wiggled his fingers next to his head, mildly mocking the tale.

"Oh yeah, I already heard something like that." Todd shook his bracelet in return.

Mason laughed lightly. "She's all right…just a little bubbly. Little too bubbly for me."

Kicking back on the bed, he sighed. "My deal was the same as you. Only I liked to speedball. You know, shoot up dope and follow it up with a blast of coke. My boyfriend wasn't thrilled about it, 'at's why I'm here… but damn..." He shook his body, shuddering purposefully. After a moment, he sighed. "We're not supposed to talk about the good times." He turned over onto his side, wagging his eyebrows. "So…what _was_ your best smack thang… you know… the time that just blew your mind… the best…fucking shit in the universe?"

Todd blankly looked at his roomie, not getting him and remembering the war story prohibition. He turned over, away. Mason got the hint and his chatter ended and then it was quiet in the room and Todd knew he was alone again. He tightened his body into a ball and closed his eyes. He imagined flying up, up, up into the blue, then the black. He breathed and then didn't. Held his breath until he couldn't anymore.

He wasn't sure he'd make the 90 days, the 60, even another day. He'd fallen off the wall bars of the gym. He was standing looking up at them, reaching up into infinity. He put a foot on the first rung and climbed. Once he was high enough, he tightened his hands on the smooth wood. His arms tensed. His feet hung now. The minutes passed and he breathed. Hanging on. The ghosts were quiet below him because he was miles and miles up in the black. And that, for now, was a relief.

 _Welcome to Granite House._

 **To be continued…**


	10. Chapter 10

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 10**

The lifestyle at Granite House was tolerable – there were lots of meetings, a lot of exercise, and low-key group socializing. The food was good. Three meals a day with a plentiful spread of in-between stuff like fruit, yogurts, veggie chips. They obviously rejected junk food. Todd lost his appetite again. He didn't know why. He just did. He picked and tasted and ended up abandoning a full plate.

In the group meetings, he paid the most attention to methods of coping with addiction in the real world. How to let go of triggers. How to keep your job. How to get through school. How to deal with your kids, partner, etc. How to regain being a good citizen. There was a bookish quality to those sessions that was easy to digest.

Then there was dealing with all the emotional hurts, the underlying wounds that led to addiction. These meetings… weren't… bookish. They were not easy to digest. And in these sessions, he didn't share. People would talk about being physically abused, emotionally abused, about their mental issues…. and he found himself quiet.

 _Not me, that didn't happen to me. I'm flying, I'm on the bars, high up in the black._

He had one-on-one sessions and he was equally as quiet there, choosing to focus on his technical progress. His counselor was fine, nothing particularly bothersome about her. Busy, as she called herself, was a happy, intelligent person. She told the pebble story and it had come out rather inspiring.

But…

 _Your file says you experienced severe abuse in your family home. Can you tell me about that?_

 _That's… nothing._

 _That sounds like something to me._

 _I'm here for my addiction. Can we just stick to that?_

 _But—_

 _I'm just gonna walk out if you're not gonna really help me._

 _Okay, Todd. Okay._

He hovered well above everything that had to do with childhood or trauma. He attended all he was supposed to, made sure to pick at the food at the designated times, went through the required motions. But in sessions geared to personal barriers to sobriety, he focused on the bits of outside he could see from the meeting room windows. Studied the carpet or exposed wooden beams or the artwork on the walls or his boots or cross-trainers. He looked suspiciously at everyone around him. What the fuck was he doing here? People were noticing, too. Other residents in the groups. They'd get pissy with him, "Talk, man. What's up with you?"

"Get off my back."

The counselor said he'd have to open up at some point. But he couldn't because there was nothing to open up about. He knew something was wrong with his thinking. He just couldn't _access_ anything. He'd think about Gilbert saying he was desperate which sent him to the gallery… that his bad childhood made him desperate. He thought about the window he smashed, the names that had been there in his head, and they had seemingly disappeared into the ether.

 _I hate you!_

 _Who do you hate?_

 _404 Page Not Found_

And he kept thinking, Gilbert and Téa were crazy. He wasn't anything like these people. Nothing bad happened to _him_. Nothing at all. All the ghosts had disappeared. His head was empty of voices. No nightmares, no dreams. Nothing. He was peaceful here in Granite. He really must have been made crazy by Llanview because here, he was… kind of regular-like.

He saw this one girl and she had this mass of cuts all up and down her arms and legs. She'd done it with a razor blade all through her teens. Years of it. Still wanted to do it. He'd stared at the visible cuts and a kind of white noise settled in around him. She wasn't the only one with that kind of damage. Granite had a slew of cutters. There was a guy who repeatedly used a cigarette on his anus. Todd heard it and had to control his facial expression of disgust. Dipped his head and said nothing. White noise again. Eyes on his black boots.

Busy kept her eye on Todd. He'd see her watching him. She pulled him aside after the meeting.

 _You did not share in today's talk on cutting. You don't self-injure?_

 _Nope._

 _Your medical file says—_

 _I don't do that._

 _Isn't the needle a kind of self-injury?_

 _It's a necessary evil._

 _Let me see your arm._

 _Don't touch me. Don't don't don't touch me!_

 _Okay, hon, okay._

He offered no explanation for his constant search for peace on Sixteenth Street. He offered no reason for the shit he'd been pulling over the past year. Mason stared at him a lot. Eyes up and down on him. A curious questioning gaze. He did it in sessions and out in the main hall from across the room. It wasn't aggressive. It wasn't anything. Just.. curious. When they talked in the room, they were sterile conversations but Todd could see that same curious stare.

Todd wanted to yell out that he was nothing but a dope fiend! Stop looking at me! That's all there is, that's all she wrote. He kept hearing "bad childhood" but the button to get there was greyed out.

Click click click leading nowhere.

 _What about your sister, chump? The one who tasted the hell right along with you…what about her? What… you think all those months getting off on abusing her were based on a few smacks on the head by your dad? Wake up…smell the smoke, the Red Baron's on the move… why do you think that is?_

Oh. Ok. He was the Red Baron. He was flying. He was up high up in the blue, deep in the blackened clouds. He was safe here at Granite. Such… _safety_. He sighed at the relief of it. It was almost like the bliss of heroin sleep. These people claimed all sorts of things happened to them… but he had to bow out of that. He just couldn't relate. He had a strict father…that's all. 'Cause he was fuckin' flying.

When he woke up out of his daydream during an evening class on coping mechanisms, a woman was staring intently at him from the seat one over.

"You ain't listening," she said, sounding like a teacher. Todd had never seen her before. Or hadn't noticed. She had long braids, cornrows. A Black woman. She was skinny, slightly older than Todd, and wore red painter's pants and a fat wool sweater with a bunch of swirled colors. It didn't hide how thin she was, though. There were strands of gray hair mixed in with the brown. Her eyes, though…sharp as a hawk's. It made him nervous.

"What she saying is kinda important. You should pay attention."

Todd cleared his throat, shaking his head… and tried to concentrate on the group leader's lecture about meditation. She said breathe to ten when you feel like self-injuring. White noise clouded his head. His mouth was dry. His palms were sweaty. Busy was staring at him from across the room, too.

"You in your own world," the woman hissed.

"I want to learn how to meditate. So could you shut up?"

"You full of shit. I see it."

"Yeah… so the fuck what? Get off my back."

 _I'm flying._

He sniffed, crossing his arms… and stretched out his legs. Adjusted himself on the chair. Eyes on his boots. _One, two, three…_

"I'd walk past that field where it happened every Tuesday," a woman named Lana said, "and I'd run home and cut. Ended up from just one day doing it to every day."

More talk followed.

 _One, two, three..._

The skin on his belly was on fire, his forearms. He felt Téa's stockings tighten around his wrists. His dick burned. It was all he could do to not cup himself, to not soothe the hurts.

 _What hurts? Why are you hurting?_

He could hear his own breathing and not a word of what the group leader was talking about now. Everyone was repeating words and he had no idea what they were saying. His boots were wrecked. Leather cracked.

He turned to critical brown eyes again. He said harshly, whispering, "What?"

"It so obvious is all. You think you better than us."

"Maybe I am."

She laughed and turned away, then said in a loud whisper to a neighbor, "I got fifty White Boy here gonna be dead in two weeks."

The person next to her, another Black woman, leaned forward and eyed Todd, chuckling, "You on, girl. Add a twenty from me. He so arrogant he thinks his shit don't stink."

The person directly in front of him, a husky Hispanic-looking man in his fifties growled, "I got sixty down."

Someone in front of the Hispanic man turned back, looking to be a boy about Jed's age who was blond and built like a football jock. He openly studied Todd, too. After a few moments, he said quietly, "Put me down for forty…" Then he turned back around, the women snickering. Todd was getting fuckin' irritated.

Finally, the last straw happened. A ginger guy with a septum nose ring turned and said, "I'm on for fifty." At which point the first woman wrote everything down in her notebook, repeating the bets on Todd's life all in a whisper so the leader wouldn't hear.

"Fuck all of you, you fuckin' punk-ass bitches," Todd grumbled. Only he said it too loudly and the group leader stopped talking.

"Mr. Manning, you have something to say?"

"Nope."

"I know we've had a long week…and being that this is the last meeting before lights out on a Friday night…

I'm sure you're a little tired."

Busy's eyes were boring into him.

"I'm fine," he growled. His hand was in a tight fist and he knew he was breathing raggedly.

"Really?"

"I… am… fine."

"Well, that's good. Ummm… perhaps you can pair up with Cristal next to you for our next assignment. I'll put the two of you down as partners."

Cristal grinned wickedly at Todd and he was back in school which didn't make him feel good. He already felt like an outcast. And it reminded him all too well of what he ended up doing to lash out at detractors. Whatever that was. Because all details of his vengeance seemed to have fizzled in the high altitude of Granite. He found himself shaking…. and angry.

When it was time to go, he practically ran out the door and could have sworn people were laughing at him. Not a good feeling at all.

He ran smack into Gilbert.

"We gotta talk, bud."

"Whatever."

He tried to get around him but Gilbert grabbed his arm. "You're dissociating, friend. We're gonna address it. We kinda knew to anticipate that."

"I don't know what that means. Please, let me through."

"Monday. We talk."

Busy came up on them. "Hon, you don't have to wait until Monday. I'm here all weekend."

"You're talkin' shit I don't understand! Let me go!"

The two stepped away, sympathy dripping like blood and he swallowed the tears that ran down his throat.

 _Cutting, cutting, breathe to ten to stop the cutting, to stop you from putting that cigarette to your dick, your balls, your soft belly._

 _I don't cut, I'm not a cutter._

 _Want a cigarette?_

They had a couple of hours before lights-out and a few options. They could watch television, read, go to the Friday night social. A little old-fashioned dance. There'd be music, time to just kick back. Todd wasn't having any of it. He ran from Gilbert, from Busy. Ran straight to his room.

He slammed the door shut and threw himself on the bed. He was shivering like he was in the middle of withdrawals. He kicked and pulled at the covers until he could get under them. There, under the heavy comforter, boots still on, he shoved his hand in between his legs and cupped himself. Curled into a tight ball. Breathed. Counted to ten. When he got to ten, he started over. He counted and counted until he was floating. He was up in the air behind the controls and it was fuckin' beautiful. He flew without battling any other planes. The endless sky was black and lit up by stars. A voice told him he was crying, sobbing, but he really couldn't hear anything. Couldn't see anything but the stars and sky.

He felt a hand on his head. A hand on his chest.

 _It's okay, it's okay._

He didn't know how long he lay on that bed in that blissful state. Didn't know how long he'd flown through the constellations. He knew he was awake and back on the planet when Mason walked into the room, opening the door carefully. He sat on the bed. Todd had rolled over at some point and he opened his eyes to his troublesome roomie.

"You missed the social."

Todd just stared at him. Mason nodded, a serious look on his face. "You want me to raise the temp in here? I can handle a little heat."

Todd rolled over, away.

Hours later, he woke up, widely, and saw his roomie in bed. Heard him snoring. Lights were out. Without thought, he grabbed his cigarettes and a lighter from his bag on the floor next to him, and got up. He grabbed a jacket from his closet and walked out the door. Shut it quietly. Went downstairs.

The place was quiet as death. Looked larger without all the residents. There were a few night lights on. Just enough light to not trip on anything. Todd made a beeline for the side door to the patio. He stood in front of it and searched for an alarm trigger. He rubbed his lips in indecision. He wasn't gonna leave. Just sit out in the cool night. He put on the jacket, shifting the cigarettes and lighter from hand to hand.

There was a bolt on the door and he slid it open. This wasn't a lock-down ward. While it was springtime, the air still had a winter feel and he pulled his jacket tight around him. He sat on one of the many lounge chairs on the porch. The night was moonless and the property didn't have a lot of outside lights. It was dark as hell. The stars twinkled. There were a million of them. Not a city sky.

With the lighter's delicious burst of flame, he lit a cigarette and collapsed back. He watched the shadowy trees, listened to the rustle of leaves, clicks, and chirps…and owls. When he tapped the cigarette, he watched the ash fade into nothing. He wished the static he heard in his head would fade into nothing, too, clear up But god…it was noisy. Almost like a jackhammer.

He breathed in the smoke and wondered how he was going to get through this.

 _You're dissociating, friend._

Not true, he told himself. What does that even mean?

 _It's what was happening earlier in your room. That was a counselor checking on you. You were way out to lunch._

No. He was sleeping. That's all it was. He could do this. He was gonna make it.

 _Next stop is the cemetery._

Why did he have to be here? With these…people? Taking bets on his life? These fuckers. He was nothing like them. Nothing, nothing, nothing…

 _I am not a cutter. I don't put a cigarette on my asshole._

Suddenly, he heard the scrape of shoes against the wood planks and was surprised at how it scared him. His heart raced and then he saw it was Cristal. He shook his head, relieved at seeing her.

"Yo sure is jumpy," she said.

He was still breathing fast from the scare. Took a puff off his cigarette. She sat on the seat next to him. Looked at him.

"Howdy," she said.

"I was hoping to escape you, _partner_ ," he snipped.

"Yeah, well, you ain't gonna."

After a few puffs, he said, "I didn't like that shit you did back in the session. What's your problem?"

"What's yours?"

He grunted irritably.

"Can I bum one off'a you?"

He handed her a cigarette and she took it into her mouth, letting him light it for her. His hands were shaking. She eyed him as he lit her cigarette. She rested back in the seat. Watched the vast black.

"You a tough motherfucker, ain't ya? You remind me of a turtle." She puffed on her cigarette, dark eyes on him.

"A turtle?"

"Yeah… you got his hard shell on…thinking nobody knows about your soft underbelly. And the joke's on you 'cause everyone knows."

"Doesn't matter… I'm gonna be dead – two weeks, right?"

She chuckled and then grew quiet. "Irony of ironies…most likely I'm gonna be dead and you'll still be kickin' up dust with them inefficient claws of yours. Walking all slow down your lonely road."

The image of him being a turtle made him sort of sad… because in some ways it was true. Problem was, so often he ended up on his back. Unable to turn over. He glanced at her.

"I mean it," Cristal said, "I got the big 'C' to deal with."

"Hepatitis?"

"No… cancer. I used _heron_ for so long I had no idea I was sick. One day, I couldn't ignore my swelling belly… thought I was pregnant. Turned out to be… disease." She laughed, smoking as she chuckled. "Imagine that. So stoned… not knowing I was dying."

Todd really had nothing to say. They're all dying. Especially when you're high on dope.

"I got chemo…the whole bit. I'm clear for now."

"So how come you're here? If you were getting chemo…you must have been clean…?"

"I got myself free of cancer, went free of drugs… then… next thing I know, I'm shooting up again. My husband brought me here. Dropped me off, telling me, I was gonna die alone if I didn't clean up my act. I don't know. I decided to stay here. Stick things out. And now…" She lifted her arm and shook that bracelet. She had six beads. Dropped her hand back in her lap.

"Congratulations," he said, bitterly. They were quiet a bit.

Then she said, "I wanna say sorry."

"For that shit earlier?"

"Yeah. 'Cause after, I saw you thinkin' on it. And I know that look."

"What look?"

She smiled sadly then said, "That maybe we should hike down the hill and get happy. And I'm sorry. I triggered that by my goofin' on you. So I'm real sorry."

He didn't smile. Sat there, thinking about doing just that. What it would be like. It hurt his heart. His hands were wet with perspiration.

"Was I right? Were you thinkin' on it?"

He shrugged, eyes downcast.

"Tell me about yourself, turtle."

"Not much to tell. I'm…an addict."

"That it?"

"Isn't it the only thing that matters up here? Really?"

"Maybe."

He turned to her, "You cured?"

"You know how cancer is, don't you? They ain't no cure just remission. It never goes away."

"And you're in this boat because of heroin."

"Sure am. I'm the poster child…'don't let this happen to you.'" She made a face, sticking her tongue out and twisting her arms.

Todd chuckled. "You're nuts." He watched her a bit as she smoked her cigarette. She was still in the same clothes from earlier, too. "Where are you from?"

"Here. Fayetville. Well, up a ways into the hills."

"Really?"

"Yeah… really. What, I don't look hillbilly enough?"

He thought a moment, then asked, "This is going to sound weird and maybe you can tell me to go to hell… but… I have a son…" From there, he described the myth he'd heard, the story Jed had told him about the angel in the woods called "Miracle." He explained a little about Michelle, about her death. About how weird it all was. Cristal listened and didn't laugh.

"Yeah," she said. "There's something like that goin' around. It's a hill story…recent though. It's like the old days, like stuff our grandmothers would talk about. Sorta unusual that Miracle's become…myth, you know?"

"Is it real? Is there really some person like that?"

"Yeah, there is. But it's just a story…nobody seen her up close. Plenty of folk though who swear by it. I heard of your Michelle. I heard about her death. About the deaths of the witnesses in the years after. Pretty sad…I'm sorry she was your boy's mama."

"It's stupid for me to think it's her."

"Honey…nothin's stupid if you thinking it." She hesitated, getting dreamy as she puffed on the cigarette. "I used to say that a lot to little girls who said they stupid or a question was stupid. 'Nothin' is stupid, honey!'" She smiled. "I used to be a teacher's aid. I was gonna be somethin'. I worked with the little kids in the afternoon program. I was 16. Boys was lookin' at me! Then… an uncle moved in with us. With my momma and my sister and me. He took a likin' and did stuff. Shameful stuff I never asked for."

She gave Todd a sidelong glance who was watching her so very intently.

"During the day," she said, I'd go to school, my classes, and I'd stare out the windows wishing for some true life fairy godmother to sweep me away. Longest times I'd just stare out the window. I hoped like hell it was true. Anything to take me away. Never happened. Until the _heron_."

She took her cigarette and pressed it into the palm of her hand. Crushing the fire out.

Todd shrunk into his chair, turning away.

 _Not me, not me…shhhhh… nothing like these people. Nothing at all._

"Sorry… old habits," she said. She watched Todd a moment. He stayed quiet, not looking at her. He lit up another smoke. She said something and he offered no comment, no reaction. He couldn't hear her. He was shaking with cold.

"You ain't listening any more to me." Laughing a little, "Man, old Cristal sure know how to shut you down. What was it I say…'bout my uncle? Fairy godmother? Or the ciggie on my hand?"

She got to her knees, and caressed his cheek lightly.

"Come on…tell Cristal what I said to spook the shit out of you."

He slowly looked back at her. Found his voice caught in his throat. White noise, fogginess in his head, voices, pictures, shadowy in it. Her expression told him… he was really showing his underbelly.

"You gotta a lot of secrets." She closed her eyes a minute. Still on her knees. She looked deeply at him. "Mason thinks you… um… you in the closet. That's his word. Thinks that's your big secret and I want you to know—"

"I'm married." His demeanor cooled. He tightened his mouth in a hard line.

She nodded. She had a hand his chest and could feel his heart rate had shot up. Eyes stayed on his. "Wife?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Tha's good. It's nice to have love. Some of us, though, we piss it away. I bet you know all about that." Out of the blue, she reached up from her crouch and kissed him straight on his mouth. A tender kiss. Todd didn't respond to her until the end when he moved just a little. She smiled and chuckled, "I never kissed a white boy before. Whoooowee…I gotta write this one down in my diary."

She laughed and he shook his head. "You kiss a sista before?"

He got offended. "Yeah, I have. A few."

Then she whispered, "What you like down there? You big like a brotha? Or you like what we hear about y'all?"

"I thought you had cancer?"

She really laughed, taking another cigarette and moving back to her chair. "I have cancer, but my coochie works just fine."

He reached for the lighter and lit the cigarette up for her, commenting, "Now when you're done… just put it out regular-like."

"I promise. Do something for me?"

"What?"

"First, you tell me what I said to upset you… and second… you and me, we agree to really try to do this thing. To get clean."

He looked into the distance and looked at the lit end of the cigarette. Swallowed hard. The white in his head had faded a bit. Voices were far away. Pictures played in front of him but they were foggy, covered in smoke. Shadows.

But they were coming.

"So what scared you, baby?"

Quietly, he said, "I'm sorry about… the fairy godmother that never came. I dreamed once that I could be the Red Baron… and fly away."

"Just the once?"

He looked at her and the shadows in the pictures shook and it was terrifying. The voices in his head got loud. Words breaking through. He could hear them but they were incomplete, out of context. He felt her near him. She had moved onto his seat, squeezed in right next to him.

"It's okay, baby. You spent a lotta time in that plane, huh?"

He nodded.

"Someone make you wanna fly?"

"My dad… he used to hit me. That's it… nothing real bad." He looked away because she knew too much. Her head was right by his and he just knew she could hear the noise. She could see the shapes in the foggy pictures. He lit up another cigarette and watched the lit end again. Let it burn so a length of it threatened to fall onto him. He zoned out… and didn't come out of it until Cristal moved his hand to allow the ashes to fall to the ground.

She looked at him directly, "Nothing real bad, huh?"

"No," he whispered.

After a little bit, she placed her hand on his chest again. Said, "I got a place we can go. I already scoped it out. It's warm enough, private… you wanna be together for a bit? Since we can't piss away love with drugs… we can piss it away by being unfaithful bitches."

"It's against the rules."

She laughed, "You a funny man, Todd Manning. Your wife will never know… and you'll make an old lady real happy. Not to mention what you'll get."

"They made us partners… not… you know…"

"You rejecting me?"

"No…I just…I'm… _married_ …"

He shook his head again, looking at the ring on his finger. It was a joke that he used his marriage as his reasoning. Because this had nothing to do with that. Heroin, Brandy, Toby's strangers… none of it was about being unfaithful. He was absolutely faithful. He loved Téa like nothing else in the world. He would never love anyone the way he loved her. Where he put his dick… well, it was nothing but a body part. Another bit of him to scar, to use. Touching it felt good. No matter who did the touching. It was part and parcel to heroin… which had nothing to do with Téa. Nothing at all.

He held Cristal's hand on his chest. He let go and lifted his shirt, just enough. Aimed the still lit thing at his belly towards his left side… the idea was heavy, layered. He listened all week about cutting and other kinds of self-injury. Listened to why people did it. He listened and listened and screamed inside of himself so he couldn't hear what they were saying, couldn't make out the voices telling him the truth. He looked at Cristal and she just stared right back at him.

The fog cleared in his head. The voices clarified.

 _Oh god, oh god. What am I seeing? What fresh hell is this? Oh god. Oh god. He's just a little boy. Just a little kid._

 _How could you do that to your son?_

He held the cigarette close enough to his skin to feel the heat. He was surprised to find himself tearful.

"I'm scared as fuck to be here… I don't think I can do it. I don't think I'm gonna make it. The ghosts never leave me alone."

He pushed the cigarette downwards onto his skin and grimaced at the feel of it. He tipped his head back and sighed. Closed his eyes. The pain was short-lived but it short-circuited things. The voices quieted, the pictures slowed. Felt Cristal's lips on his as he let go of the cigarette and suppressed more of a sob than plain old tears.

"He jus' hit you, huh?"

He didn't have to answer. He hadn't just shown his underbelly, he'd slit it open and dumped his intestines on the floor.

"I shoulda known," she said, "when you stared out that window and got lost in it same as I did."

She put her head close to his and in the end, he went with her to that place she talked about. Gave her something to write about in her diary. They'd gotten inside that shed and wasted no time stripping in the cold air and getting close on the dirty painter's tarp. He moved hard inside of her, her hands tight in his White Boy hair, his on her chocolate-skinned back, clenching her to him like he was the skydiving-Todd and they were gonna die in that fall because they didn't have a goddamn chute. They were both silent in their joined drop through the sky, nothing but ragged breaths, until they shook with the wrong kind of orgasms.

He did it to feel good, did it to avoid running down the hill. He did it because he got relief the same way he got when he masturbated when getting off heroin or methadone or just hurting for it, back when he was fully using. He got relief from fucking the same as he got from the cigarettes.

He was a cutter with a hundred weapons. He was running from Peter, his rapist from seven to eight to nine and then fourteen. He was the same as those people in the meetings. He self-injured in so many ways he pretty much had them all beat.

 _Unfaithful?_

 _Not one fuckin' bit. He was faithful, man, faithful to heroin, faithful to his self-destruction._

 _Whooowee..._

* * *

When he got back into his bed near sunrise, Mason started tossing and turning wildly, caught up in some nightmare, and when Todd woke him up, he grabbed onto Todd with a death grip.

Mason was terrified and Todd tried to separate but Mason wouldn't let go and Todd then just let him hold on and held him right back. They stayed in this desperate hug for a long time, Todd half on the floor and Mason with his arms tight tight tight around Todd's neck, head tight against his.

Once Todd was finally able to peel away and get into bed again, he found he was shaking with stress. He knew Mason's nightmare. Knew the safe hold onto someone, by someone. A little like Noah when he tackled him that first day. He had done that to Tim countless times. He even thought he might have given his Superman some mad kisses right on the mouth but he wasn't sure if that was real or not. And he remembered how good it all felt, how… _saving_. If only that feeling could have lasted beyond the touch.

 _Save me, he's gonna kill me!_

 _I got ya, it's gonna be okay._

As he drifted to sleep, he wondered if the hold he had on Cristal was more like Mason's hold than a cutting. Maybe it wasn't heroin that took him to that shed, maybe it was more saving.

And wasn't heroin that, too?

 _You're my salvation!_

He flew into the deep blue sky one more time as he went to sleep only this time the sun was coming up and way below, he could see the runway.

* * *

The papers said ugly things. Articles described a gruesome death in the tunnels under the city of Llanview. Bo Buchanan looked across the damning documents at Jack Neederman, the FBI agent who'd been tracking Phillip Manning in life, as well as his death.

"As you can see," he said, "the fire didn't get everything. It left enough of the remains to determine the cause of death… and the knife has a clean fingerprint on it. Not to mention the mysterious circumstances of Jedediah's recovery."

Bo had good reason to want to go after Todd Manning but time had softened the interest, the need.

"Phillip Manning was a real bastard, Jack… without more, I don't know."

Jack tapped his fingers on the desk, "You're kidding me? What's this…vigilantism? No matter what Phillip's done, we've got to close the case if it's murder. This is the U. A."

"Yeah, I know…look, I'm not seeing this so closed shut, here. I've been behind a slew of bad trials lately… our D.A.s are not looking good right now and this… well…it's pretty sticky. Nobody's clean here."

The office was busy today, and in the background the phones could be heard, along with a girlfriend complaining about a "wrongfully arrested" suspect. Bo flipped through the papers once more, the argument being put forth by Jack. He could just imagine the media frenzy this would cause over Todd Manning being arrested again.

"I have questions," the FBI agent hissed.

"Of course you do."

It had been a while since the overdose incident and Bo remembered that he'd been really rough on Jedediah. Viki has given him an earful. They all did. And admittedly, he felt bad about it. He just didn't want to see the kid take the same path his father was on. He wanted the kid to see up close, under the sheet, exactly what advanced addiction looked like short of a corpse on a steel table. He had proof his strategy might have worked. Jedediah, he heard, was doing very well and Todd was in rehab.

But he had a job to do.

"Well?" Jack was short on patience.

"Let's get Brandy Night in for questioning. Todd's out of state…we'll have to wait on that one."

"Jedediah… the kid. I want to talk to him. I think he knows more than he's saying, truthfully."

"He was drugged, unreliable memory."

"I think it's worth a few minutes under hot lights."

"Maybe. He is a minor."

"Kids can be powerful witnesses."

Bo got up and watched over the fuss in the department. The words, "Strange hell," escaped from his lips. He wasn't sure what he wanted at this point. Wasn't sure what to pray for.

 **To be continued….**


	11. Chapter 11

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 11**

At the end of week three, springtime rain came down in thick, unrelenting sheets, keeping everyone at Granite House inside. Not the day for the group to get talking about the pain causing drug abuse, because there'd be no sun to run to after the purging, nowhere to go to breathe fresh air and try to shake off the memories.

But it got going anyway, purposeful chance leading to this place. People talked about how their walks down the wild side started, how their searches and experimentations began. _Who, what, where, when_ kinda stuff. _Why_. It was an ugly place… dark, scary… lots of monsters under beds and behind closed doors. Cause for tears, anger, cause for compassion.

It was also reason for Busy and Gilbert to watch Todd, to see if he'd share his story. He felt their eyes on him. Oh he knew his truth. He'd unfortunately landed his red plane on the runway. He just didn't _want_ to share.

For the first forty minutes, Todd drifted in a more present sort of way, staring at his black-leather boots while others opened up. They were the same steel-toed ones he'd stumbled along Sixteenth Avenue with. The same ones he'd used to kick a stranger to make a point. The same ones that would knock against the rotting floor of Toby's place as he lay about doing nothing but drugs and all that other shit.

He didn't know why the boots meant anything to him… but they did. It was the only pair of shoes he brought when Téa said it was time to go. He ended up having to buy cross-trainers from Granite to use in the physical activities. And there were plenty of such activities.

Not today.

Cristal sat next to Todd, their singular tryst secret, their faithfulness to heroin and all its iterations kept to themselves. Todd kept twisting his ring around his finger, feeling the heaviness of it, the slickness. He missed Téa intensely, but then imagined a conversation where she told Tim that she'd given up, that Granite was Todd's only chance at recovery and he'd failed.

 _Oh well, Tim, I have my own life._

He took the ring off and stuffed it into his pocket like another bit of lint.

An image of her in bed that last day sizzled to life. He felt her hands on him, could feel her tying the stockings around his wrists to keep him on the bed while she searched the room for heroin. He remembered the erection he got once she started touching him. How the stockings had done something to him. He thought of the heroin, the powder bliss that had spilled on the linens and how Téa had turned her head at the taste of it.

And in all the reminiscing, he kept seeing that move…over and over… a turn away from him. Why couldn't he see her kisses of him, why couldn't he hear her say, I love you… why couldn't he see her eyes, those brown eyes? They avoided his mind's gaze.

For a moment, his heart clenched with a boundless ache for… oh yeah, for dope. Gilbert shouldn't have told him that stuff about Granite being the last stop. It affected him.

 _Oh well, Tim…I have my own life now that Todd's chosen his. Now that he's dead. A corpse in that hospital full of corpses._

The room quieted, Todd not noticing since he was so firmly entrenched in an internal dialogue. He watched a bit of dust float down from mid-space to the floor and soon the place was completely silent.

"Come on, Turtle," Cristal said. "Talk."

That woke Todd up and he turned to her, creasing his brows. Like she'd betrayed him or something. She didn't waver, of course not. Wavering on anything wasn't Cristal's thing.

 _Let's be unfaithful bitches._

 _We're not unfaithful. Not at all. We are damn faithful to heroin._

Todd refused her urging. He hunkered down into his chair and dug his hands into his pockets.

Gilbert saw the exchange. He made the group rounds this week, this being the first time he was participating in the group sessions. He saw that lots of eyes were on Todd and that Todd knew it, scowling and putting his head down. Gilbert crossed his arms and eyeballed the group participants from his seat in the circle.

A back and forth was happening about bullying as a start of addiction for some of them, getting bullied.

Todd didn't like it, tuning out.

No question, there was definite hostility and, or, impatience towards his silence. Typical group dynamic. If one was going to share, _everyone_ was going to. And if you were going to be so damn quiet, the least you could do was listen. Pay attention.

Except… they didn't understand.

Busy eyed Gilbert and he acknowledged her with a slight nod. They knew exactly what was happening with him because of course they had reviewed his medical file as they did with all the Granite patients. Additionally, the head psychiatrist had brought Gilbert and Busy in on a conference call when Todd's dissociative episodes became more than just daydreaming.

Dr. Graham had sighed heavily on the phone after hearing Busy and Gilbert describe what they were seeing.

 _Yes, he shuts down. Episodes can be minutes long in a conversation or hours or even days. His longest episode was almost a week._

 _The longer episode, was it catatonia?_

 _Yes, that was my diagnosis. He's creative, intelligent, strong-willed… makes for very effective ways to avoid what hurts him._

 _His file mentions severe abuse in the family home?_

 _Severe… yes. The entire spectrum, physical, emotional, verbal, sexual. And that's only what we know, what he tells us. He has an amnesiac block for ages—_

They could hear him flip papers.

… _he can't remember what his life was like from age ten through twelve._

 _He's in the right place then._

 _It's why I sent him to you._

It was just a matter of time. These things don't stay under covers.

Gilbert sat back, interested in how Todd would respond to the forceful scrutiny of the group. When he dug deeper into his quiet, Gilbert said, "Cristal, why are you calling Todd, 'Turtle'?"

Someone popped up, mocking, "Because he's sloooooow…."

People chuckled and Todd closed his eyes, rubbing them hard. Trying like hell to control the burst of anger coursing through him because if there was anything that made his blood boil… it was being called, stupid. But then, it wasn't like he'd buddied up with anyone to give anyone reason to think otherwise. Still…

Cristal shook her head. "No, that ain't it. I call him, Turtle 'cause he got this way of moving along and not getting distracted… 'cause he's all alone… 'cause…" She reached over and poked his stomach, which he didn't like, swatting at her hand. "I call him Turtle because he got a soft underbelly he likes to cover up."

Todd just shook his head, refocusing out the window, folding his arms across his chest… biting on one of his nails. He was a turtle all right, firmly incapacitated and stuck as he lay upside down on his shell.

One of Crystal's girlfriends chimed, "Mmmm… girl… now how do you know that? Have you actually _seen_ his underbelly?"

Everyone then picked up on the double-entendre and they all made sounds at it, whooping and giggling. Cristal, though, didn't laugh, keeping her eyes on Todd. He felt it and soon found it hard to look away from her.

 _Save me._

When the laughter continued in the face of Gilbert's and Busy's urges to settle down, Todd lit up, finally snarling, "Shut up… just shut the fuck up you stupid assholes…"

"No swearing… _asshole_ ," someone reminded him.

The room quieted once more with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, snickers in the group.

Gilbert said gently, "They just want to hear your story—that's all. They've shared theirs… why not you? It's been nearly two weeks since you joined in. Nobody's going to bite. We're all here, in this thing together."

Todd opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. His story especially didn't come out. He didn't know why he couldn't tell what happened to him, why he was so intimidated. The fog had cleared and the static died down. He knew his fuckin' story. He knew exactly why peacefulness meant so much to him, why heroin was _everything_ to him. He got the cutting thing. Hell, he could talk any one of these assholes under the table when

It came to self-injury.

 _You put a cigarette to your asshole, I do my dick, stomach, arms, the inside of my thighs, my nuts. I slashed up my arms, I hit my head against the wall, I use a needle everywhere I can find a vein. I fuck up my life at every turn. With malice aforethought. Now you want to talk about what else I do? In dark rooms, to get high, to stay high? Yeah, fuckers, I win._

He told his story to Viki, Tim. Brandy knew. He even shared some with Téa. He'd spent months already talking about it… after years of hiding it.

He watched the rain and wished like hell he could fly out into the storm. Clear as anything, he could see himself hop into the Red Baron plane and take off… swooping down along the mountain range… narrowly missing the trees. He'd shoot straight upwards…and glide along the horizon…and go home.

 _Home…where is that_ … _exactly?_

Cristal brought him back with her hand on his cheek. He looked at her, eyes hard on hers. He was shaking. The whole group was quiet again, except it was a different quiet. They had moved into a sickening cloud of _understanding_.

Gilbert or Busy… someone talked while he had been flying. Everyone knew now what he was doing when he looked out that window. He could see it on their faces.

 _Poor turtle. Oh. Poor poor… turtle. He's upside down._

"Welcome back," Cristal said softly.

Leaning back in the chair, stretching out his legs, he shoved his hands into his pockets once more. He was on his back, on his lonely road… claws waving… with nobody to help him out.

 _Come on, talk, Turtle. Your pops did way more than hit you._

"Todd?" Gilbert was talking to him.

He said plainly, sounding adrift, "Not much to tell."

"Tell us the 'not-much' part."

He felt Cristal's hand on his shoulder. It had weight to it. The quiet was suffocating. The patience and understanding by all these people was killing him.

 _Keep it simple._

He looked at the lights overhead and found it hard to breathe… wrinkled his nose… and whispered, "I'm feeling so fuck— " He paused, working on the language…"I feel stupid right now."

"Why?"

"I don't know…just do…"

"Try us."

He didn't know who said any of that. Shrugging, he said, "I guess… because Sherry got it worse than me. Because Greg… because he nearly died twice over before he ever got out of the house…because… I'm nothing… I'm a nothing…and you all… are right. I'm stupid, a stupid slow turtle."

He tapped his heel against the floor, bouncing his knee…nervously. He was finding it hard to stay in the present. He so badly wanted the safety of the fog but the pressure of the room was too much. They weren't letting him go. And some voice I his head said he needed to do this. Probably the voice of his favorite person, Dr. Graham.

"There's no comparing… it doesn't matter," Gilbert said. "Your story is yours."

Todd moved around in his chair, his nerves suddenly on fire. Every part of him he ever burned or cut was on fire. He didn't look at anyone. Rubbed his sweaty palms down the tops of his thighs.

"Let me try to make it easier," Busy said. "How long have you been using drugs? A year? Ten?"

"Huh?"

"Drugs, alcohol… when did you start using?"

"Oh… uh… I guess… in some way or another… I started when I was about 12, I think. I… uh… stole a drink."

It was a strange memory he had. No context. Couldn't remember before or after or during. He's sitting on his father's desk, on top of it. He's drinking from a glass, the amber of scotch. He runs his tongue all along the edge of the glass. He is looking at someone. He knows he is. He then takes a sip and it's good. The thing is, he has no clothes on. He's swinging his leg off the desk and he's leaning back on a hand. He says, _are you mad now?_

It makes no sense. He's a kid but he's not a kid. He's not talking like a kid.

He zoned out again. He came to as Cristal squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him. She had tears in her eyes. The group had gotten smaller. Some people left. He'd definitely gotten lost again. He reached a hand out and grabbed Cristal's thigh, a hard hand on her jeans.

 _Save me._

"I ain't goin' anywhere, I promise."

"You're doing real good," Busy added. She was next to him. She'd moved. He hadn't seen it happen. He looked towards the door and saw the house doctor there. Lynn something. She was looking at him. It made him want to cry. He knew then how bad his shutting down was. Just like before.

"How long?" He asked Busy, his voice barely there.

Busy smiled in that doctorly way, "Only seven minutes or so. It's who you are. It's how you protect yourself. Nothing to be ashamed about."

"Jesus Christ," he whispered.

Busy then said, "Tell us what drink you stole."

"Scotch," he choked out. "Drank more over time—got worse later on."

"What do you mean by worse?"

"Amounts. Drank to get drunk in high school then college. I smoked weed, did coke. Mostly alcohol, though."

His voice was soft and dreamy. He could hear it and do nothing about it. He glanced at the few left in the circle, seeing that they were listening. Paying attention. Mason especially. He looked back down.

"When did the heroin come into your life?"

"Started doing methamphetamine first… and uh… then I found heroin. And here I am."

Mason asked outright, "So why'd you start drinking? I mean…what happened? What made you take that first sip? 'Cause for me, it was when… when my mother… uh… crashed her car and she died. I was the only survivor. She and the family of five she killed in oncoming traffic… were gone. That started a whole long road here."

Todd said in a soft tone, "I don't remember… exactly."

"You remember," Mason said. "I tried to put the crash outta my head for a while. Pretended it had been an accident. That she hadn't gotten drunk, hadn't gotten into a car, and hadn't purposefully driven onto the exit with us in the car. After a while, I couldn't ignore it."

Sherry across the room asked, "Your dad… he ever catch you drinking…Turtle?"

Todd paused, then said, "Yeah… and… you know…" He stopped at that.

 _You mad now?_

"No, we don't know," Gilbert said. "Be specific."

Looking around the room once more, Todd wondered who of them eventually turned their hatred onto others. That was the thing that always got to him. To condemn Peter Manning was always to condemn himself.

Dropped his eyes downward, to the floor… so his voice would have to crawl out of his mouth like a wave of cockroaches… they'd spread… black…quick… disgusting. He didn't want to see the bugs, he didn't. Not again…and again…and again…

"He'd yell and stuff, you know, no big deal… same as when he caught me doing something wrong…" He tried to shut the skin flaps of his underbelly but bloody bits were flying out, beyond his ability to get them back in.

"That all he do?" Cristal was doing the asking.

Todd looked over at her…shaking his head. He knew nothing made any of it go away. Not really. Not sex or cigarettes or heroin on Sixteenth Avenue. Not even love. Real love. There was no place to hide from the stench of what was inside his belly, there was nothing that could ease the pain of it.

"Todd," Gilbert said in a gentle tone, "The more you talk about it, the less power it will have over you. It doesn't matter that you think it wasn't as bad as what happened to anyone else… or that it was the worst thing beyond all reason… or anything. You've chosen to slaughter your own life because of these things you don't want to talk about. Bringing them out into the open will make them weak. I know you've heard this before, but it's true. It's not just lip service."

"I know all that…" Todd said in a barely audible voice.

"So then put your knowledge into practice. Tell us, _Todd_ , was yelling and hitting all your father did to you?"

He swallowed and his eyes watered a little, the lump in his throat, hurting. A whisper rolled out as he looked at Cristal. "No…," he said at last, "he…uh…"

"Just say the words, Todd."

Tim had once said that… he remembered that. He ran his eyes across everyone else's. Landed on Cristal who nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"He… uh… abused me starting when I was 7." He then choked out the descriptive word that caused him so much pain. " _Sexually_ abused me. He'd come to my room at night and punish me. All kinds of punishments… he'd do it often… and we were caught once by my mom… and she left me, walked out of my life… and I never saw her again."

He was quiet and he studied his hand still on Cristal's leg, caressing the denim thoughtlessly, fighting a very real wish to simply lean over and rest his head on her shoulder and cry like a baby.

"I hated it… I hated it so much… it made me crazy. Completely… positively… crazy."

The group that had stayed seemed to sigh in one collective breath. Cristal squeezed his shoulder again. She had never let him go. He eyed his black boots. The cracks in the leather. Eyed that he still had his hand on Cristal's leg. She had long put her other hand on top of his.

"When did the heroin start?" Busy was talking.

"Recently. I found it and I gave my whole life to it because…" He organized the sequence of events, trying to organize the slimy scum of his guts brightened by hellish red lights.

"See, I'd forgotten about those things he'd done to me. I _forgot_. And because I forgot, I got myself into deep shit and ended up in prison when I was 20. Then I got out and had this okay life for a while and then…out of the blue… I _remembered._ And I didn't want to sleep anymore because I didn't want to see it over and over and over so I used speed. Then I tried to kill myself… and I was messed-up and then I found heroin." He smiled a little, sadly, "I could forget again. I could pretend to be free. Sitting somewhere… and not remembering. I thought it felt like love."

People nodded, agreeing. They knew his story. It was like all of theirs. He was surprised to find his cheeks wet with tears. He wiped them away, looking at his hand afterwards, cleaning it on his jeans. The room was quiet… but for sniffles.

Mason decided to stir things up.

"Heroin saved you, man. You would have died ugly. I seen the scars on your arms… then you got high. Bet you never picked up a blade again… or a gun or anything like that."

He grinned defiantly.

Gregory, a hefty guy who sounded like he was from the Bronx, spat, "Yo, Mason, what's with you and the celebration of dope? This is so not the time! Our friend here just shared his burdens. He's here to get OFF the merry-go-round from hell and you just don't help!"

"I'm just saying the truth… as in TRUTH. Todd… _Turtle_ … would have killed himself awfully messy-like again if it wasn't for the dope. Speed, alcohol…" Mason made slashing motions across his forearms. "They mean death…the ugly kind. Dope…makes you HIGH …makes you happy…whooo… two plus two equals four, man, simple stuff. Tell 'em… you ever cut yourself like that again? The way you did your arms?"

"No…but…"

The doctor glanced at Todd, then Busy, and nodded. She left the room. Todd realized in that moment, he'd done something good. Cristal smiled at him, gave him a wink.

Another guy across the circle said, "I'm with Gregory… that's such a bunch of crap, Mason. Heroin nearly killed Cristal…a bunch of times. In more ways than one. It did kill my buddy, Rick. He's six feet under thanks to _dope._ And lemme say, it was ugly as hell. He aspirated vomit. Give me a break on heroin."

Douglas from England asked, "Turtle, you ever o.d.? You ever taste death while HIGH…like Mason here likes to say?"

Keeping his eyes down, Todd nodded, saying softly, "Yeah."

"Did you _like it_?"

That was hard to answer. He looked at Mason who was so certain he was right. "I don't remember a lot. I know it hurt my family… _infinitely_." He rubbed his eyes, the reality of that deeply painful, knowing he technically od'd numerous times, knowing he never thought of them, not even one time. If he did, he couldn't remember.

Someone countered, "Death is inevitable… who cares how it happens? Ugly, pretty…whatever."

Mason looked at Todd… "But see, death by heroin, my man… that's like… peaceful… what you THINK heaven would be. You know this, _Turtle_ …"

"Can you stop calling me that?"

Crystal put her hand on Todd's arm, chuckling a bit, "Sorry, honey… but it fits. I think you stuck with it."

Todd groaned gently.

Gilbert broke in, "No…no… if Todd wants people to call him by his god-given name, then everyone will respect that."

Sherry said, "Okay…Turtle it is. 'Cause I just KNOW the Lord gave him that name!" There was some much-needed laughter…even Todd sort of chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, I'm not done with Mason," Gregory insisted, clearly angry.

Busy asked, "What would you like to say?"

"He's not making an ounce of sense and it's pissing me off."

"What? I'm making a hell of a point. Heroin saves the world and YOU from the ugly death. It's beautiful when you're stoned… like Kelly said, aren't we all gonna end up dead anyway? SO might as well go HIGH. Even the state agrees with me… with their lethal injection and allowing doctors to give it at end of life."

Gregory turned to Todd, "I don't believe you see heroin as something that saved you. I don't believe that."

He looked at his roommate. He was talking big but Todd knew his nightmares, how he needed to be held and protected from the monsters. He struggled. He got his point but...

"Heroin did save me."

Everyone groaned and Mason sat back, smug in his rightness.

"But not in a way that's real," Todd said. "I didn't pick up a blade again or a gun but… I stabbed myself every time I used a needle, Pulled the trigger every time I pushed down on that syringe. I really wasn't saved. Much as I like to think it, it's just not true. It's a lie."

The group offered passionate opinion, arguments, comments flying from all directions. And Todd listened. Looked at the shiny guts at his feet, secrets splattered about, enough to make him want to puke. Reminded him of all he did to get those things back inside, hidden. And the things that came about because of it… including… a murder. Justified, maybe, but he wondered if any of it have happened… had he not been a junkie?

Cristal leaned over and said to him, only to him, as she patted his hand, "Look at you… all turned over, showin' us that soft side. You still breathing, _Turtle_."

He shrugged. He still needed to duck and cover, but had nowhere to run… he hurt like hell… and there was no place to go. He had nothing to do except absorb what happened… and look at it head-on. He kicked at the secrets, rubbing his boots against the carpet.

When the meeting ended, ending on a positive note with Busy cheering everyone on, and people stood up to leave, when everyone began ambling out of the room, Cristal turned to Todd and said, "Hey, I'm gonna be at that place…tonight around midnight. Feel like watching the rain… I suppose. If you like…"

Too out in the open, her request, too nervy. He looked at her pretty face, the long braids he knew the feel of in his tightened fist. Her soft lips…that he'd not kissed so much. Her thin body that had felt breakable with his use of her. He touched her fingers, instinctively…

"You know I hate you for making me talk," he said.

She smiled and chuckled, "Yeah, I do… _Turtle_. You can hate me a whole bunch later…"

And with that he walked out the door, hearing her call for him by his proper name, but he ignored it and scuttled down the hall and through the people milling about before dinner. He walked a twisted path along other hallways, through doors separating the meeting rooms from the dorms… walked past Doris packing up to go home, and got behind some stacks of books and a few tables and around a corner, until he came to the side door that opened with a mere slide of the bolt.

He burst through it, the same door he'd sneaked out of previously, and finally, finally…

… walked straight into the rain and into the cold air.

 **To be continued...**


	12. Chapter 12

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 12**

He hopped off the steps, landing on the muddy ground, grunting at the sinking of his boots. Surveying the windows and the porches, he saw nobody was watching...

He then ran like hell, taking off on a sprint for his life, crossing creeks and whipping past trees and thorny shrubs, flying past the granite boulders…ran even though it hurt to breathe and his muscles burned. He didn't stop until he came to a clearing that dropped off sharply into the New River.

He stood there at the very edge of the world, panting like a racehorse, looking down at a roaring river…the rapids wild, free. A place like where Michelle had jumped so many years after witnessing an unspeakable violation…after losing her own innocence to him.

She'd been a clearing to him back then, a desperate break…before Peter violently pushed her and him into another kind of river altogether.

He lifted his head to the sky, letting the rain fall on his face, his clothes sticking to him like memory. He raised his arms feeling the rain on his hands…and thought of a time when blood ran down his arms, thick rivulets washing down the drain beneath a shower's rain because he'd needed the violence, the _violation_ , because he needed to show Peter that _he_ had control over his life, not Peter.

He did, he did…he did.

He had nowhere to go with these thoughts running in his head. Although…he supposed…he could run straight ahead and fucking …jump.

 _Are you done yet? Or do you want to hear my cries while you shoot up first? Oh wait a minute…you already got what you needed. You got to hear me moaning at your fucking of me…because you wanted to remember how much better it is to be loved for real…as opposed to the fake love you get from being fucked up._

He paced the edge of the cliff, studying the black water rushing speedily by, splashing over rocks and fallen tree stumps. The rocks were sharp, deadly…hundreds of feet down.

 _Real love versus heroin's fake love._

He could jump, he could jump… _he…could…jump_.

It wouldn't take much, just two steps. And it would all be over, no more struggle, no more wants, desires, no more points to be made, secrets to be told, hurts to be aired. No more lies, no more cheats, no more slaps in the face…

… no more laughter either or love in the middle of the night or the taste of cereal first thing in the morning or the smell of a boy's cologne when he's going out or the feel of colored, candied lipstick on your cheek from a little girl's kiss…

"Oh god…god…"

 _Real love._

Turning around, he staggered into the center of the space and dropped down onto the muddy springtime grass. Lying flat on his back, he let the water blind him, breathing in the sodden, bitter air.

"I don't know what it is I wanted back there, Téa. On that bed, half tied. I wanted to be done with it, I wanted to die, I wanted to be with you, I wanted to have a normal life…I wanted the old fucked-up one. I want…I want love…I want to forget…I want to love…I do. I want to make you smile and not cry anymore…I want my kids…I want Starr back…I want to fight with Blair…and make fun of my sister…I want to be me again. The one you used to see."

He took his ring off and twirled it in his fingers, watching the water drip over it. Admired how perfect it was, so round…like the bracelet on his wrist, like the bracelet he'd given Téa, like the ring she wore, round like the addiction merry-go-round.

Then with one powerful motion, he threw it away. Threw the ring far and hard because if he didn't understand where he was going, what he was connected to…there was no reason to carry around a symbol, symbolizing nothing.

The ring was gone.

"You want it all…just like anyone else."

Somewhere behind him, a woman's voice cut through the noise of the storm and he tipped his head back to see who spoke to him. Though upside down, he made out long brown-looking hair flowing down a shapely body, hair darkened and flattened by the water. The sun gave a reddish edge to the brown. She sounded amused, standing there up on a rock…sure-footed…a strangely colored skirt…a dark green jacket…

"Who the fuck are you and why are you intruding on my nightmare?"

The figure laughed, "I always minister to the children who run here…I talk to them when they try to run away. When they try to jump. It's my hobby. It keeps me grounded."

"What?" Todd sat up fast, but when he turned around to see her straight on, the vision was gone.

Crazy…crazy…his imagination gone mad. He fell back again, the water coming down heavier. He pressed mud into his hands.

"I want it all…just like anyone else? I'm not 'anyone else'…none of these people are. We're God's jokes." He didn't have time to be hallucinating. He had a suicide to contemplate. Except, when he closed his eyes, imagining the fall into the water and his body breaking apart on the rocks, boots sloshed once more around him—she warned him not to look at her.

"You stay put and maybe I'll give you something to take back with you."

"Like what?"

"Like a bit of hope."

"I'm not going back to that fucking hell-hole. I've decided that I'd rather be dead."

"And why is that?"

"Because…they want me to talk about garbage and then what…what do they offer in return?"

"Relief at having unburdened yourself?"

"That is such bullshit! There is no _unburdening_! All those people, they're all fucked-up. My own roommate thinks lethal injection is a rallying cry for the legalization of heroin for god's sake! That's looney! Fucking LOONEY! How am I supposed to get better hearing that?!"

The vision laughed and said, "There's not much I can say about that one."

"Unburdening doesn't help."

"But unburdening binds you to each other. Like hand-holding. And that leads to love. People-love. Ohhh I know, you're about to laugh at me and curse at me…I can hear it rumbling in your throat. I know of what I speak, however. Love is an idea we are born with and is something we strive to find. Sometimes it comes easy, sometimes not."

"Love, love, love…whatever. I don't know what that is anymore."

"Love is what makes us open our eyes in the morning and sleep at night, oblivious to the hell that continues everyday around the world. Love is what makes us laugh at a person tripping in an airport no matter how sophisticated we are. Love makes us giggle at looney roommates. It's what makes us stick our hands out the window of a moving car to swim through the breeze. It's what makes us pick up a tiny seedling in a tiny jar and marvel at how it's growing thanks to a little light and a little water. And mind you, I'm not talking about another person's love, I'm talking about God's love."

The sloshing continued as she made her way around his prone body.

"Yeah, yeah," she snipped, "you can tell me I'm full of shit, but _Angel_ , that's just a fact of life. You have it inside of you. Everyone does. So, you need to pick yourself back up… go inside Granite…and sit next to someone who'll offer you a smile or a shoulder to lie your head on and feel the love of that place. Let love help you sleep and let love wake you in the morning…and let it move your feet on a walk with your group…and let it carry you across those monkey bars and on and on and on…and in the end, you're going to move out of here with a whole lot of life ahead of you."

Todd listened to her and to the rain and after a while he realized the vision had gone.

He heard his name being called. Voices coming faintly from an undefined place…and he sat up, muddy and soaking wet and hurt…and sad…and hating the secrets that lay so ugly at his feet…so exposed…and so powerful that it brought him repeatedly to this cliff and so many others, over and over he stood on a ledge …and he thought he was nuts, hearing his name…and of course, the sounds soon faded into nothing.

Like him…a nothing, a hateful, damaged… _nothing_ …that couldn't get over some nothing crap that happened a lifetime ago, something that had broken his spirit and his heart.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 _Two zeroes, Johnny-girl, Johnny-boy, two zeroes equal nothing. Remember that? Hahahaha…jump up and taste the hell with me._

 _Jump._

He could do it. He could jump because there was no love for him in this world, not really. He didn't deserve Téa. He had no right to her. No right to that ring. No right to God's love or any love. He'd been damaged and he turned around and did the damage right back. Took away _love_ from others in exactly the same way it had been taken from him.

The vision had been wrong. God put him here, on this earth, to fucking die.

And like Mason said…what difference did it make?

Something glimmered in the dark in the distance, through the trees. When he focused carefully, trying to make sense of what he was looking at, that's when he saw lights… _flashlights_ …and there was one, two…three of them…and there were matching voices, calling for him.

"Todd!"

"Where are you! Come on home!"

"Let's go, Turtle! We've got dinner for you!"

He dropped his head and simply cried…

…and then he heard the voices sounding relieved, "Oh hey…look at you…"

"There you are…"

"Who said he'd be at the cliff?!"

"Ha! Did I win?!"

"I think you've won 120 dollars! I'm smelling Atlantic City!"

"You fucking assholes," he sniffled.

Busy, the counselor, wrapped her arms tightly around him, squeezing him, as someone put a blanket over him, Busy adjusting the blanket, saying, "No swearing, sweetheart…even though they deserve it. But it's okay, it's okay, we got you covered. I know it's hard…I know how much it hurts."

He felt someone else put arms around him and he saw it was Cristal, She put her head to his, pressing her hand against his hair.

Gregory squatted down in front of him.

"Help you up, friend?"

"I can do it."

"I know you can. But sometimes It's okay to let someone give you a hand…God knows how many times that cliff called to me, too. 'Sides, it's hard for turtles to turn back over all by themselves…"

Todd looked him in the eye and he started to cry…and with that, Gregory stood and grabbed Todd by the hands, pulling him up to his feet. And smiled at him. At which point, they all started walking back through the trees, heading towards the distant lit-up Granite House. He pulled the blanket tightly around himself. Kind of glad the rain had let up.

"You're all right, Turtle," Gregory said after a while, "You're all right. You're not the snob people said…"

"They call me a snob?"

"Well, yeah…I mean… _yeah._ "

"That is so fucked up."

"No swearing!" Several people shouted from behind him, laughing.

"Shit…oh god…I can't fucking stop..."

Busy then joked, "We do have a group for that, you know…"

It wasn't too long before they got inside. And Todd headed to the showers, actually grateful for the warmth of the Rock. When he stripped off his clothes, he looked at his hands and remembered that he'd thrown his wedding ring away.

So dumb, he thought. That thing had managed to stick by him all through the year…never getting stolen, never getting sold…and in an instant it was gone.

In the shower, he huddled on the floor in the hot water. Looked at the old cuts on his arms, at all of the marks. He remembered Mason catching sight of them as he walked down the hall after a shower, sweats and tee-shirt only, so casually at first. And then later, he saw him looking hard again and realized Mason wasn't looking at the track marks. Mason had turned away, shaking his head. Now he knew why…because he'd thought it a shame Todd hadn't discovered heroin before he'd damaged himself like that.

When he got dressed in some fresh clothes, clean, thankfully dry, depressed over that damn ring, he picked up the wet jeans from the floor of the bathroom, along with everything else. And something fell noisily on the tiles, bouncing and rolling away.

"What?"

He looked around quickly for the clanking thing…and there shining in the light beneath the furthest sink, was his ring. He sort of gasped…surprised. Disbelieving. He bent, picked it up…and saw on the inside, the engraved script writing, simple words…

 _I love you._

His ring.

The "vision" must have caught it and put it into his pocket without his knowing. He ran his fingertips across the letters. And now, he could hear Téa's voice, he could hear her say the words.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you._

He could see her looking up at him, from beneath his body, brown eyes misty. He knew her love didn't hurt him and he had no reason to hurt her. He had to believe she'd not given up on him. Granite was a hope…not a lost cause.

He wouldn't jump.

With that, he unhooked the black bracelet…and slipped the ring on the rope. Re-hooked it around his wrist. He took a breath and glanced in the mirror…looked at himself, and walked out to get dinner…not so alone tonight.

* * *

The next week brought a new emotional space for Todd. He had the slimmest sense of _community._ It wasn't churchy kinda thing but rather similar to being in high school, or junior high. They were in a place together for lots of hours and hated the same things and liked the same things and they couldn't wait to get out. As that old saying went… they were all in the same boat.

It was strange now in those cursed group meetings that touched on the personal that as soon as Todd started zoning out, which he still did but not quite as bad as before, how he'd have two people right next to him, on either side of him, putting a hand on his shoulder or his arm or even his knee and how when he looked at the person, at each of them, he'd find their eyes on his, kind eyes, assuring him that it was okay to just listen. That he didn't have to share. That he was safe and nothing bad would happen if he just listened. That if he wanted, he could talk too, and he'd get nothing but understanding.

It was perhaps the most foreign _feeling_ he'd ever had. Almost like…

 _Friends_.

And he found that he gave the others some of the same thing in response. Mason still suffered nightmares and Todd would jump up when they started going and he'd sleepily grab his pillow to just sit next to the bed on the floor, head on the pillow to make him not so uncomfortable, his arm hard on Mason's belly to keep him down, to let him know he wasn't alone. And he'd fall asleep there until a couple of hours later when Mason would push him away and call him some stupid name which almost always made Todd laugh because they were such dumb names like marshmallow, or roast beast, or blanket-lover, or… just dumb.

And the cutter, Sherry. He'd learned to recognize when she got in that zone, that space where she wanted to cut bad and he'd sit next to her on those days, just holding her hand until the feeling would go away. And he could see it leave. Because suddenly she was breathing smoothly and her eyes brightened and the rest of the hour would be better. Survivable.

And of course, he was still friends, real friends with Cristal. Nothing too bad, nothing too wrong. Avoiding addictions together.

 _Friends_.

The Granite people began to know each other. To help each other.

When the thirty days came, Todd chose to not reach out to Téa or Jed or anyone. He wrote a letter explaining in as best a way as he could and knew they might be upset but he was more afraid of the contact. Afraid that hearing their voices might disrupt him, might make him want to run. So he… hunkered down and continued at Granite. He was surprised to find himself at six weeks.

Two more weeks and he'd be at two months and that… was really something.

* * *

The interrogation room at Llanview P.D. was much too cold for Jedediah who'd left his jacket at school. The cops hadn't given him much opportunity to retrieve it when they yanked him out of class so early in the morning.

It was funny…or sad…because the kids barely acknowledged the incident. They hardly made a peep when their pre-calculus lesson got interrupted with the ominous presence of police officers picking Jed up, "for questioning." Of course they wouldn't, such a scene was common at Llanview's alternative program school.

All by himself now, Jed wasn't feeling so sure about things anymore. He folded his arms on the steel table and lay his head down on them. Waited for the cop to come back.

When Jack Neederman returned to the room, he pulled a seat out, and plopped down on it. Jed popped his head up. The plain-clothes cop smiling at him across the table. A cat with a canary in his mouth.

Téa next to him. Fuming. They'd already put Jed through this—there was no reason to continue. His initial statement didn't reveal much because he'd been drugged. Time wouldn't clear that up, not really. Even if he did come up with more details, ultimately his testimony was impeachable because of the drugs. Brandy had been no help at all either. Her repeat statement was solidly the same…

She found Todd and Jed above-ground and helped them get to a friend's apartment. On the fingerprint…she simply shrugged her shoulders.

" _I don't know nothin 'bout nothin'."_

Bo stood at the door. A camera shined down on all of them.

"You already questioned him," she said. "This isn't fair to do this to him."

"We have no choice," Bo said. "Not with the new evidence."

 _The fingerprint on the blade._

Jack introduced himself, adding, "I know you've done this before, son, but there were some inconsistencies in your story. Things that didn't quiet make sense. So we want to go over it again."

"Sure." He looked up and swallowed hard. He was in big, deep, sinking trouble, because for the life of him, he couldn't remember the story he told them originally. He almost wanted to cry. Todd would go to prison for murder all because of him.

"Tell me about the last day of your captivity."

He sighed. "Right…well…I was at this house. And…this Phillip dude had me tied up all night…to some pipes against the wall, I think?"

"Do you have an estimate as to where this house was located? Even a guess?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't see outside or anything."

"Okay, what happened next?"

"Um...I fell asleep at some point. When I woke up in the morning, he was there. He untied me. Told me to sit at a table in the room."

"Do you know if the house was one story? Two? Lots of bedrooms? Just a couple?"

Jed bit his lip, trying to think. He really didn't see much or… just couldn't remember. He finally shrugged, "I kinda think it was a small place? One story? Just… don't know for sure."

"You're doing great. Go on."

"I was hungry so he let me eat some bread and milk. I remember talking to him. I didn't trust him. I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

Jed turned to Téa and she nodded, assuring him.

"That he was going to kill me. He beat up some woman during that time I was with him." He paused. The awfulness was so close, like it was just yesterday. "I watched him kind of have rough sex with her and then he beat her up. I don't know what happened to her."

Téa didn't change expression. She hadn't heard that before and she resisted grabbing him up into her arms. Jed was incredibly strong, she realized. She glanced at Bo and he also was poker-faced.

The agent had been surprised, too.

"Why didn't you tell us this bit before?"

Jed shook his head, "Didn't I?"

"No."

He shrugged forlornly, saying softly, "I dunno."

"Did he bring anyone else around?"

Jed nodded, biting his lip, "Yeah. A boy…about my age." He had whispered that last statement.

"Did he have rough sex with him, too?"

"Yes."

"And all this took place in front of you, while you were tied up in the same room with the pipes, previous days to the last?"

"Yes."

Téa had to work to maintain composure. The real horror of his captivity was far worse than she's been imagining. She then worried about… _him._ Bo shook his head, sighing.

Jack cleared his throat and sat a moment in quiet. Then he asked Téa's own question.

"Jed, did Phillip have sex with you?"

"No! No, he didn't."

"Did he touch you in any kind of way?"

"He hit me a few times because I kind of got sarcastic or whatever. Hit me when I got the boy to let me out of my cuffs once."

"And nothing sexual."

"No." He visibly swallowed, uncomfortable. Added, "Nothing I remember."

Téa bit her own tongue. Could not cry, _don't cry._

"What did these two people look like?"

Jed described them in as best a way he could. But his recitations seemed so generic…he wasn't sure if he'd recognize them if he saw them again. He rubbed his nose, his face. Drank some of the water another cop had brought in earlier. He was shaking. He had to tell what he remembered. Which was very little. Very. Little.

"So you were sitting at the table, untied and drinking milk and eating bread. And you couldn't tell where you were, I mean, geographically?"

"No, he had foil or some silver paper on the windows."

"Could you hear anything outside?"

Jed thought for a while… "Trucks, I think."

"So a large street of highway."

Jed sighed, more useless generic bullshit.

"What about the physical structure? Plaster walls? Wood paneling? Color?"

Thought about that. "Um… plaster. Plain doors. Like flat. No decorative wood."

"So what happened next?"

"He told me he wanted me to smoke some weed because he knew I liked it. Something like that. I said, no. I didn't want to. He pulled out his gun. Pointed it at me and said I had no choice. I had to smoke."

"What did you do then?"

"What do you think I did?"

"You tell me. I'm not going to assume anything. This is almost _all_ new, son."

Jed nodded his head. He'd sort of left out a lot of detail the first and only time they'd asked him what happened. Shock, he figured.

"I smoked it. He handed me this pipe full of stuff and I smoked it. I thought he was going to kill me."

"And then?"

"It wasn't just weed…I knew it right away. It was something else. I saw all sorts of things…and…" He looked down… "I had weird dreams about being with my girlfriend…I dreamt we were making love—I remember that."

Téa felt a sickening weakness run through her. She glanced up at Bo and only closed his eyes briefly. Small favors. Téa instantly knew. Jed has been spared what Phillip might have done to him.

Jack nodded, "Jed…do you think there was any truth to those dreams?"

Téa interfered then. "Objection here. He already told you he has no recollection that anything other than the hits took place so stop. That question is inflammatory and irrelevant."

"It could lead to evidence, counselor. If he has any idea of the truth, maybe there's more to chase. Like pictures."

Big eyes looked back at him… "Pictures?"

"Answer my question."

Téa shook her head. "Just answer. No expounding. Do you think there is truth to your dreams when under the influence of the drug that you were with your girlfriend?"

"I don't know. I mean…my girlfriend wasn't there…was she? I don't think so…do you?"

"No…I'm asking you."

"No," he decided. "She wasn't there. They were just dopey dreams."

"Okay, so you were having these dreams…and then?"

"And that's all I remember…until…"

"Until what?"

"I was tied up again and…I was in a cold, wet, dark place. I couldn't move at all. There was next to no light."

"Did you hear voices?"

"Yes." Jed sat up, sitting back onto the chair with his hands on the table. He folded his arms.

"Do you remember the conversation?"

"No. It was weird and dreamy. Nothing that made sense. I thought I was still dreaming. I hurt all over."

"Do you recall seeing anything?"

"No...yes…I could see shadows…people…standing up and I could hear they were yelling…and then…" Jed swallowed again, taking more sips of water. "I couldn't hear what they were saying, I couldn't make it out."

 _I need to move his arm out of the way …I need to hold his wrist - I need to do that. I need it … for me, for things…to work._

"Did you know who they were?"

Jed looked around the room, really shivering…there were so many disconnected phrases in his head, comments being whispered, being yelled.

 _You just sleep, okay? You think angels and planes and freedom … you dream your dreams. Float like that … live like that. This ain't nothin' - it's not real, Jed._

"Jedediah…you gotta understand, this is some serious stuff and we can't have you messing up the waters with your fear or some sort of misplaced loyalty."

"I'm not doing that…it's hard to remember exactly."

 _Stop fighting it, you FUCK! You gotta die for my mother … my son, Michelle, Brandy … and for ME! FOR ME! You FUCKIN' BASTARD! YOU FUCK!_

"We have his body—Phillip's. We have evidence, Jedediah. I need to know what you saw."

 _Two foxes had killed a massive bear…two small, wily foxes…it was a dream…it wasn't real…_

"You're not in any trouble. We're not prosecuting you…although…"

Téa spoke up at that. "Although what? What are you threatening him with? What?"

"If Jedediah is covering up for someone…might be perjury, obstruction of justice, accessory after the fact. You know all this, counselor."

Jed exhaled and looked past Jack, at the mirror. He didn't know what to do. Téa was arguing like the bulldog she could be. He watched her. Maybe if he said Todd was there, he could make up something…but then he remembered his original story which had been that Todd hadn't been there and that someone else had freed him…and Todd found him outside. He couldn't quite remember. Maybe he said something else…maybe he said nothing.

Téa and Jack concluded their battle. Téa gave permission for a few more questions but nothing to imply criminality. He was a victim. A witness.

"We have a fingerprint, Jed. A very clear one. On a knife. That was found deeply embedded in Phillip's eye."

And that's when Jed's breakfast of an omelet with bacon made its way up…and out. All over the table, splattering Jack's folded arms.

"You bastards!" Téa yelled, arms hard on Jed.

Jack got up and waited patiently for Jed to quit heaving…

Sitting up, pushing his chair back…Jed wiped his mouth with his hand, his eyes watery… stunned, "Oh…sorry…"

"Sometimes, Mr. Chant, actions speak louder than words."

 **To be continued...**


	13. Chapter 13

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 13**

They had to switch rooms, obviously.

The table in the new interrogation room had been vandalized, words scratched into the metal top reading, "Do not pass go." Jed ran his fingertips across the feathery phrase slowly, deliberately. He closed his eyes a second or two, overcome by how screwed-up things were. A situation made worse by his own chicken-shit reaction.

He drunk the cold bottle of water. Tossed the empty into the trash.

They never said whose fingerprint they found. He'd assumed it was Todd's. Fell right into their trap. Why didn't he stop to consider that the cops were bullshitting him? He'd seen more than enough cop shows to know they do that sort of thing.

But no, he actually had to _puke_ at the first mention of a possibility that the cops might have something that could conceivably incriminate Todd. A mere implication had sent him into a tailspin.

He almost wanted to cry at being so gullible, so… _guilty_.

People were arguing – he could hear their voices banging against the walls of the room, boomeranging off the table top, but he didn't give a damn what was being said. He wasn't going to talk now, no…fucking…way.

Jack was practically spitting at Téa. She stood next to Jed with her hand up and fingers spread in front of her. Like a shield. Bo pointed at Jed, poking at the air. Finally, they began to file out the door, Téa saying, "I'll be right back. Things are going to be okay, Jed. Hear me? Things are going to be _okay._ "

Jed didn't look at her. And then he was alone.

 _Do not pass go._

He wondered about getting a condo on the Boardwalk…or maybe he'd use some of that cash he stole from Todd to hang out at Park Place. He'd be the shoe, sliding across the blocks, the apartments, the houses…slipping past the jail…camping out in the center of a monopolized mindset. His eyes left the table and glided to the glass window to stare at the greenish hue, at the room it reflected. The walls were blank, the door unmarked, the space in between filled with reverberations of confessed-to awful acts. How many people had spilled their guts here? How many stories lingered in the air, leaving ghostly traces of the murdered, battered, and ruined?

 _Stop fighting it, you FUCK! You gotta die for my mother, for my son, Michelle, Brandy … and for ME! FOR ME! You FUCKIN' BASTARD! YOU FUCK!_

Does Phillip count?

He can't…he was a fucking bastard like the fox had yelled in Jed's spaced-out dream. The fox who killed the bear. A bear who deserved to die. Why these people were so hot to find his killer, he didn't get. Did they even hear what he said? He told them about that boy…about the woman. Maybe he wasn't descriptive enough…maybe they didn't grasp what it looked like…how Phillip punched that woman so hard in the face she puffed up and couldn't open her eye. Maybe he should have clarified that he choked her when he fucked her…that he laughed when she fell off the bed like a rag doll because she was unconscious. Not to mention what he did to the boy. He didn't even have the words for that.

And had they forgotten that Phillip had killed Michelle?

He felt itchy, craning his neck and scratching at his ear. He massaged his temples, messed up his hair. Sunk deeper into the chair and stared at the holes in the ceiling panels. He wanted to run. Badly.

The only thing that kept him in Llanview was the letter he got from Todd near the thirty-day mark. _Don't call, don't visit._ It wasn't mean. In fact, it was honest and probably the most loving he had ever been in all the time Jed knew him. He even made him laugh.

 _I'm doing good. I'm okay. Just need more time before I can see you because I'll want to come home and I'm really scared of relapsing. I am sorry. So stay, do your thing. I love you. More than I can say. Proud of you always. Hope your hair is a regular color. Though I have been wanting a mohawk. Must be the mountain air. This is your country after all, isn't it?_

The letter was from the father he wanted to know. He wished he could tell _that_ Todd the shit that was going on here.

From an outside perspective, from one outside himself, Jed's dilemma sort of fascinated him. It was interesting that a person's life should be hanging on the ready-and-waiting gallows of Jed's faulty memory. It was interesting to see the people on the sidelines, waiting for the pull, urging Jed to yank on the lever…or not. Bo Buchanan, Jack Neederman. On some level, Téa was there, too, as was Viki and… sweet… weird… _twisted..._ Brandy.

He had a soft spot for her. She always encouraged Todd to be better towards Jed. Every time he met her, she was smiling and saying in one way or another, "He's your boy, baby. You be good to him."

 _Twisted._

Because she wasn't good for Todd in any way. She got high herself in the shadows of his addiction, after helping him shoot up, licking the empty bag, tasting the blood…and she got high on the way he used her. She'd get this flush on her face afterwards, her pupils would dilate. He could see it.

 _Twisted._

Made him think on the boy and the woman again, maybe they got high off being used, too. He didn't understand these things, didn't understand what he'd seen. And he didn't understand why the truth in his tale was so meaningless to the cops, either.

Fuck 'em all. Fuck 'em for asking him to participate in more violence.

In the end, Todd was Superman and he managed to bring that motherfucker down and did it without an ounce of mercy. Some would blame the drugs but that would be a lie. Jed knew the thing would have gone the same way no matter…junked-up, straight…whatever. What happened that day was right, _justified_.

He shifted on the chair, glancing at his tee-shirt, at his pants, impressed that he didn't soil his clothes with his regurgitation. Good aim. He got Neederman and got him good. Inside his head, he could hear the roar of crowd, an announcer screaming too close to the mike at a soccer game, "Goooaaalll!"

The door to the interrogation room opened. He looked up to Téa, her features stony, "Jed…you don't have to tell us anything now unless you want to. You have control here, the ball's in your court. Even if they subpoena you…all you can tell them is what you REMEMBER."

"Maybe he needs to spend time back in the psych ward to jog his memory," Jack said in a low tone.

Téa's eyes lit up with a sizzling fury. "Mr. Neederman and Commissioner Buchanan, I'll say this one more time. You ambushed him. You described a disgusting image which would make anyone sick. And now you're using his natural instincts to make improper implications. You were wrong to do it this way, you were unfair. This COULD have gone another route, but you didn't want to think about his best interest – no, first and foremost was your never-ending blood lust for Todd. Well, I don't play that game, so I'm taking Jed home."

"He's a huge flight risk, certainly—"

"You got that right! Except now it's _your_ problem, isn't it? Thanks to your insufferable arrogance, you've put your ONLY willing witness on major defense. And without his cooperation, you have nothing more on Todd. Your paltry evidence doesn't make him the killer and fat chance you'll ever get a confession out of _Todd Manning._ " Téa chuckled derisively, the laugh surprising everyone in the room.

Jed thought it curious that she waved his truancy around like a flag. He watched her and he realized he didn't know this side of her all that well. He'd never seen her cornered. Something decidedly irreverent slid through her veins. He liked it.

Bo Buchanan fired back, "We can hold Jed on aiding and abetting…"

"You have nothing."

"If he runs—"

"If he runs, this will be YOUR fault. You might as well have handed him a bus ticket and passport, you goddamn bastards."

The men were silenced, Jed noticed. Put in their place by Téa. He grinned in spite of himself, and he knew the grin pissed off the cops.

"Get up, Jed. Let's go."

He did and was stopped at the door by a hand on his shoulder, a hand which dropped at the sight of Téa's icy expression.

"Mr. Chant, we're not going to let up on you. You're a key witness and while your lawyer is right, we can't hold you here, we encourage you to tell the truth about the day Phillip lost his life. Counselor, he's not to leave the county boundaries. The consequences of that could be—"

"Shove it up it your ass," Téa hissed. "He's not a suspect. He's a victim."

The two walked at a fast pace down the halls of Llanview P.D., Sam literally running into them.

"What the hell happened? Viki called me, I came as soon as I could."

Téa shook her head, continuing to practically sprint. "Unbelievable…dragging Jed down here…they want him to testify that Todd murdered Phillip."

Sam slowed his steps, looking concerned…whispered, "Can he?"

Jedediah said right away, "No, I can't!"

Téa immediately hushed him, placing her hand on his arm, holding it, "Don't say anything here, _mijo_."

Sam looked seriously at Jed who was looking anywhere but at Sam before they continued their way to the parking structure. The place was relatively quiet. Not much traffic where Téa had parked. Jed opened the passenger's door, climbed in and slammed the door shut. Téa opened the driver's side door and said, "I'm going to talk to Sam a minute…then we go home."

She closed the door and pulled Sam some yards away from the car, facing away from Jed. Her eyes misted, "Jesus…"

"It's all right, take some breaths…what are we looking at? What does he know?"

"I think he saw the whole thing…and yes, I think he _can_ testify against Todd."

Sam pursed his lips, glancing over at Jed.

"What are they going after?"

"They're playing with first degree murder."

"Christ…"

"They're using their own set-up of Todd as bait, claiming he went along with their plan, but his real purpose was to lure Phillip into that basement away from the cops with the intent of killing him which he succeeded at. They're CRAZY!"

Sam gazed at Téa and then asked in a grievous voice, "Are they right? Did he kill him?"

Téa kept her eyes on the distant gray of the parking garage. "Does it matter?"

Sam went along with her, dropping the argument for now. "Tell me what happened today."

She filled him in on everything, the things Jed said he saw and her worries about what he wasn't mentioning. She knew there had to be more because Jed was good at keeping quiet…after all, he'd kept the truth about Michelle to himself for years.

"They don't have enough to book Todd so they're scrambling for witnesses."

"Brandy, too, I take it?"

"Yes…but she's locked up tight. Didn't spend all that time on the streets and not learn some things. Plus she's completely loyal. She must have really frustrated the hell out of them to go after Jed this way."

"Yeah."

"It's not right. Especially since this involves the death of someone like Phillip! Sam…he was evil. I'm thinking things here. I've lost perspective. Badly."

"I'll take care of that – I'll act as Jed's attorney. You just be his mother, his friend."

"Will you act as _my_ attorney?"

"Yes, why?" Suspicion fell over him, his tone dropping.

"I don't want you in the middle…I have some thinking to do."

"Téa...tell me what you're planning. Don't get vigilante on me."

"Since when I have ever been that?"

"There's always a first time. And it's not like you haven't chosen unique methods of fighting the courts before. Like marrying Todd to help him get custody of Starr."

"That was so long ago."

"A lifetime."

She looked into Sam's eyes with such sadness, "You're a good friend to me, to Todd. Thank you."

Sam grabbed her hand. He was worried. "Promise me you won't do anything… _overly imaginative_?"

She only shook her head, whispering, "I'll do my best."

He paused, rubbing his thumb against her hand still in his. "Has Todd been contacted?"

"As far as I know, he hasn't been."

"How's he doing?"

"The Granite folks say, he's fine, he wrote a beautiful letter, it's been six weeks."

"That's great." He realized she wasn't so positive. "What?"

"He didn't want to see us at the 30 day mark. Said something about not being ready. It made me nervous." She sighed. "It's a long, long road. I'm afraid that if he gets wind of this, it'll knock him off the wagon."

"Think positively."

With that she hugged him tightly and got into the truck. Jed looked at her, unsmiling. The apprehension palpable. She ruffled his hair, hoping she didn't look as afraid as she felt.

"It's all right," she said brightly. "Things are going to be fine."

She then drove out of the garage, onto the boulevard. Working to maintain composure…trying to be someone who could do anything…everything.

* * *

The group was testy. Spring had fully arrived, summer on the horizon. The April rains had let up, but not the tempers, not the anxiety. They'd covered a lot of ground, but there was still so much to do.

With a suspicious eye, Todd considered everyone in the circle,

Mason was the toughest to read because you just never knew what he'd say – his face, his body language, one could never tell what thoughts lived in his head until he decided to show them. Douglas looked depressed…he had a difficult time masking his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried. Jonah was always questioning everyone, his eyes were on everyone else…working the circle, trying to gain what he could from them. Raul was fairly guarded…he narrowed his eyes, chewing gum like a cow chewed on a cud.

Cristal refused to look at Todd directly…keeping her eyes down. That was because she'd gotten…well…vulnerable to him. Too long a look and she'd reveal too much. Sherry sniffed. Keeping her eyes close the center of the circle, gently touching the scarf she wore to cover her hair. A religious thing. Gregory was a pretty good cover, but tonight he looked perplexed.

That cinched it. Todd figured he could handle their attacks. Time for details…time to reveal what he had. He took a revitalizing breath…

Smacking down his cards, Todd purred, "Full house. Kings over queens."

"You jerk!" Mason spat.

Todd grinned a little, wagged his brows…scooping up the booty to the groans of everyone else, a pile of cigarettes, Granite funny money, original Twinkies, and one condom thrown in there by Gregory who had gotten desperate when he ran out of loot.

"Oh man…just a pair…"

"I had nothing…sixth time in a row."

"I was out ages ago…"

"So close…god!"

Todd was a bad winner, getting up, dancing exaggeratedly to Elvis's "Jailhouse Rock" playing on a c.d. player.

"I win again…I win again…"

"You're such an ass, Turtle," someone said laughingly. "Who'd a thunk it?"

"I know… it's good to be king!"

He fell back into his seat, chuckling, opening up the Twinkies…not sharing. Then he stopped himself in a mocking way, picking out the condom. Waved it in the air while he ran his tongue across the inside of his mouth.

"Gregory, I want to know why you're carrying this around." He read the package, face in mock surprise… "Ohhh, I'm so not worthy…this is extra _, extra_ large."

Douglas sighed heavily, "I always wanted to buy the extra large…always had to settle."

"Do we know her? She here?"

"She ain't here folks – this is what you have to look forward to when you reach eight beads like I have. Entire weekends off."

"Hmm," Todd sat back, waving the thing in his hand, "…but if she's off campus…why are you carrying the thing _with_ you?"

"Know what. I'm going to pretend to be you…and not say a word."

Cristal smiled, "But Turtle's been pretty good lately…spilling his guts."

"Indeed," Douglas said, glancing at Todd, "so then, who are _you_ shagging?"

Todd twisted his mouth, looked contemplative. Then, he gently slipped his index finger into the creamy center of the Twinkie, slowly turned it, only to lift it to his mouth and lick the crème off on a slightly extended tongue…

Sherry the entire time had her mouth open, along with Raul…along with Mason...

Running his tongue along his lower lip, he sighed, "I'm celibate."

Everyone laughed which made him smile slightly. He ducked down, though, pleasantly embarrassed at his overt sexual goof. He wondered what Téa would have done had she seen him do that…and that made him smile even more so, to himself. She'd have been shocked. Which reminded him of his wedding ring hanging on his bracelet.

He then furrowed his brows, turning inwards a bit…

"I should be celibate…more so than I am."

Jonah, a shy computer programmer interested in psychology, adjusted his steel-rimmed glasses and shook his head, "I find that _hard_ to believe…no pun intended."

"You talkin' to me?" Todd asked.

"Yeah…I find it hard to believe that a, you're celibate, and b, that you'd want to be. You just…" He was searching for the right words.

Sherry, her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand, said, "What Jonah is trying to say, is that you're sexy. You jus' drippin' sex…so it's hard to think of you as celibate on any level whatsoever or from any angle…up, down…against a wall…or when you climbing those ropes outside…one hand over another…your abs showin' 'cause your shirt just happened to slip up… all the way across the mat…sweaty…hot…"

Some in the group chuckled at Sherry…especially when she whimpered. Cristal covered her mouth to suppress her twittering, "You is shameless, girl."

Mason didn't express his sexuality much and even he was chuckling, Sherry saying,"I am right on this." And he had to nod, still chuckling. He eyed Todd then didn't.

Todd, though, didn't laugh – he never saw himself like that. Found it impossible to believe…still. Old memories made his brain twitch. "Give me a break," he said softly, taking another bite of the Twinkie.

Gregory shook his head, "It's not fair."

Mason turned to him, "What's not fair?"

"I want to be sexy, too. Dripping in sex. Big doesn't always translate."

Cristal laughed aloud, "Oh baby, you're sexy…in a bear-like way. You got all that fur – I think it's real sensual."

"You just like my big – "

Everyone screamed to get him to stop from saying more.

"What?! I was about to say my big _biceps_ , gutter puppies." He made a muscle with his thick arm.

The group laughed, taking bits and pieces of Todd's winnings, which he was giving out…and he laughed, too, glimpsing the motley crew of companions he'd accidentally acquired. He couldn't deny the warmth in the place lately, sort of surprised he'd let himself warm up. They'd given him some unexpected hope.

It was good… _mostly_ …

"Wish dripping in sex did something to make me quit wanting dope…" He picked up a cigarette, loosely hitting it against the table so it slid through his fingers. He did it over and over…

Gentle, sympathetic comments flew back and forth. They all had their weaknesses.

"I have no problem not wanting crack cocaine," said Raul, "…but I do have a problem with keeping busy. Which always leads me back to crack. My life just ISN'T set up for anything else. If I had more…if I could get over all my other shit, I'd have something fall back on."

Cristal added dreamily, "I just love being stoned…I miss it. All the daily stress of regular life…just makes me want to nod out in a corner. No shoes to tie, no bills to pay, no dinner to make, no paranoia…mmm…'cause I don't give a damn."

Gregory said, "It was my buddies…I liked the society of using. Gonna be interesting going back home. I can deal with cravings, urges…no problem. I'm done with dope…but…the whole THING is another deal altogether. That's what I worry about."

"Well, the cravings are killing me," Todd said. "It's why I'm here…I can't fight them. They come on like a flash flood. And it's not changed at all…not since I started using. Not here…"

Cristal asked, "All those classes on coping ain't doing anything for you?"

"No…I hear what's being said, logically…I take notes all the time…and then…I'm up in the middle of the night…"

Mason finished the story, "He's up, shaking, sweating…dying. Hanging onto the bed to stop himself from running."

"Your problem is you think too much," Douglas said. "You as well, Mason. Both of you are _dripping_ in anxiety. Once you deal with all the underlying difficulties, I'm sure the cravings will go away."

"I'm on goddamn medication for all my underlying difficulties," Todd grumbled, "…but it doesn't stop the fucking noise."

He got a lot of sympathy at that. Few of this group weren't on some kind of medication for something. They all started talking about their different disorders, the medications, the kinds, discussing the very real battle on using medication at all.

The longer they talked, the worst the obsession was getting. Todd had gotten triggered just by mentioning the cravings, the thought of wanting to use. Right out the blue again.

 _Shit._

He tried to hide it. His palms were sweating and he rubbed then on his jeans. His breathing was speeding up. He closed his eyes, trying to think but not being able to. There were coping mechanisms he was supposed to use, right? What were they again? What…what was the first one? First step?

 _Nothing_.

The process scattered, all parts of it spreading into the room's atmosphere. And he was left with a watering mouth and a visual loop of a syringe barrel, blood rushing into the liquid.

"Fuck," he groaned quietly. He got up and went to the couch. Hiding. Hiding. He was in full panic mode and he wanted to cry. He bent and held his head in his hand, the other holding the unlit cigarette.

Gregory tapped Jonah who'd been sitting next to him. "Up…Turtle's having a breakdown."

"Oh man, things were going to so well with him," Raul groaned in sympathy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Todd whispered, head in his hands, rocking slightly.

"You don't practice the coping," Gregory said, sitting next to him. "You don't have a plan."

"Tell me what I'm supposed to do, then," he said as he rubbed his head with the heel of his hand.

"Where you at, on the 1 to 10 scale?"

He could hardly talk through the onslaught of desire, the sheer _panic_ at the want. "Ten? Jesus CHRIST." Todd hunted for a cigarette lighter in his pockets and couldn't find one. "I hate this," he whimpered.

Douglas moved to sit by an open window, wanting to separate himself from the action. Todd wasn't the only one to have these meltdowns. It was the norm in Granite, really.

The chilled air and nicotine seemed to settle the room. The music playing in the background, ironically, was 1980's disco…too lively, too energetic, at the moment.

Raul shut it off. "Greg," he said, "You're obviously the king of overcoming this stuff…tell him what to do."

"Sure…you want to try this, Turtle?"

Todd shrugged, "Sure, whatever. A couple more minutes of this and I'm leaving." The agonized expression he wore told everyone he was truthful. "It hurts," he said, "even after all this time…it's already been six weeks…seven soon... and I'm still doing this."

"Yeah, I know, I know. Okay…so take a deep breath. Let's get you calm."

Todd did as Gregory said, breathing in deeply…which made him definitely not want to breathe…made him remember the absence of breathing.

Which only made things worse.

"I can't believe this shit," Todd said softly, hunched over in real pain that clearly bordered on the physical. "I'm never gonna make it out there … and if I don't… I'm never going to get her back, never going to get my kids back…I'm going to die of this." He looked at Gregory…

"I don't want to die."

A light went on for Gregory. "Hey, you're not going to. You gotta stop thinking like that. I can see why these attacks are so hard…you make things catastrophic. Not getting high at this moment or whenever an urge hits you, isn't gonna kill you, Feeling the want isn't gonna do it either. The want alone is not a command, it's a THOUGHT. That's all it is. You're blowing it way out of proportion so cut it down."

Todd nodded, still entrenched. Trying to lessen the intensity. He was breathing fast still, his heart racing. He had to run, had to get to something, anything. He wanted heroin and he groaned at the raw want. Eyes out the door. He felt several pairs of hands on him. They were literally keeping him in his seat.

"Stay put, son," Crystal said. "Come on."

"I bet you always do this…the mood hits you, the urge sneaks up on you, and you think it's the worst thing in the world."

Jonah had left and within seconds, Busy stood at the doorway, Todd not noticing.

"So come on, Turtle, breathe, it's just a thought…it isn't a real sickness you're feeling. You're not dying. The want is going to pass like any other thought does. In one ear…out the other. You do it everyday with other thoughts. Why should this be any different?"

Someone said something.

"Right, right. Hey, Todd, count to ten, man. Breathe deeply. One, two…"

Todd followed along, did breathe, eyes on his friend, working at making the panic pass. The cravings were thoughts just like anything else. They come into existence, float around a bit, and just like they came in, they leave. He didn't have to act on it, he didn't have to get scared.

 _Just a thought, coming and going._

By this time, Douglas had gone through two cigarettes at his perch by the window, going over his own techniques at fighting urges. Sherry was feeling every bit of what Todd was, so she huddled next to Cristal who was stoic as always. Raul was at the card table still, thinking, hands behind his head, working out some poetry meters.

Mason was playing with the cards, looking cynical, eyes on Todd.

Jonah was back with Busy, needing to learn more. He'd been thinking he wanted to be a counselor when he was done with his run at Granite. He talked softly about some other routes of battling a sudden attack.

Busy commented, "Remember, too, he might have an anxiety disorder to complicate things like Renee, the fifth week girl with the beads in her hair? You and I talked about her…"

Jonah nodded, "Oh yeah…very similar. Right."

Todd was sitting back now, slightly less panicked. Not needing to be tied down. He breathed evenly. Didn't feel he was dying anymore.

"Better?" Gregory asked.

He shrugged, legs outstretched. He gazed around the room. Now that his panic attack had subsided, everyone shifted a little, sliding back into an earlier light buzz. The girls were serious still, talking quietly in the corner, the others starting another poker game. The music flipped back on. Busy was laughing quietly with Jonah.

Emergency averted.

But not completely. The panic had pushed him into a hazy space he wasn't liking. He couldn't describe it. His head buzzed. The edge of static. This… wasn't so plain to others.

He lifted his eyes to Gregory. "Just a thought," he said quietly.

"Yeah."

Gregory then said, in a contemplative way, "It does help to think of the bad things that came from using, the worst follow-through of getting high."

The poker game fell apart. Todd got up to light the crooked cigarette at the window alone. Most everyone left for the main room, TV out there, air-popped popcorn and cucumber water and veggies.

Only Douglas, Gregory, and Mason stayed. Busy lectured a little. Offering hints on averting the drug wants.

 _Think of the bad things._

Mason sat at the table, shuffling the cards again, playing with them, and Todd watched the repetitive motion, heard the flipping sound. The white, the red, the black. He watched Busy's mouth as she talked with Douglas and Gregory. Her lips. She was pretty, had a cute upturned nose. She dressed like a guy. He heard someone say she identified as _non-binary._ Whatever. Who cares? So many labels. Everyone had one. What was his?

 _Drug addict. Rapist. Ex-con. Killer._

The cards caught his attention again. Shuffling. A blur of white, red, black between capable and deft fingers.

Mason was watching him.

 _White, red, black._

His worst experience with dope. Should be easy, Todd thought… _white, red, black,_ there were so many things that sucked about it. _White, red, black._ The literal pain of using intravenously, the bruising, the times his veins seemed to all be jumping out of way and he'd have to repeatedly pinch himself. _White, red, black._ He remembered a good number of times waking up and puking in the sink, making a mess, or plain old waking up in a pool of puke. He remembered gripping the edges of the counter, fingernails dug into the mildewed grout, practically choking on vomit, not to mention all the issues with his stomach… his bowels. Once, after a particularly long run of using, he stood at the bathroom counter and his legs gave out. He hit his chin on the counter as he dropped and he bled all over himself. He ran a tongue over a tiny chip in his canine tooth that probably came from that one time.

 _White, red, black._

He knew he'd dropped the cigarette. It was inches away from him. He knew he'd dropped to the floor. Knew he was sitting, back against the wall, legs spread. Window above him. Cold air drifting across the room like smoke, swirling. Eyes on the cards across the room.

 _White, red, black._

Heard someone say, "Hey, hey…"

"Uh oh."

"Aww shit…"

 _The worst, the worst things._

He had hurt Jed so much…he remembered seeing him on the bed across the room…the space between them foggy, hazy…sad eyes looking back at him. Not to mention when he was pounding at the door just weeks ago. Remembered all the hurting of Brandy. And the hurt of Téa, her swimming brown eyes, when he lay in her arms before Brandy took him from her to keep him breathing…ohhhh…and waking up in the shooting gallery…

 _The worst._

"Toby's," he sighed.

"What's that?" He didn't know who asked. Felt compelled to answer.

"Gallery," he whispered, with his head down.

 _White, red, black._

"What happened there?""

Mason kept shuffling the cards. Todd could hear the flipping sound.

 _White, red, black._

Without his say-so, Todd drifted back to Toby's, back to the rooms, the chipped and peeling plaster, the dirt everywhere, the stink. The rotting mattresses. The black scrawls on the walls. A cockroach at his feet, scampering around his boots, soulless.

 _More than that._

"Rooms and rooms. Graffiti everywhere, used… _shit_ … everywhere. Torn up couches and mattresses and rugs. There's a baby here. I held it, once. Everything is so dirty. I can't stand it. Find the vein, find heaven."

His mind wandered the maze of Toby's, walked around hefty Toby himself. He crept among the people there, so fucked-up, not even living things…just drugged out bodies. No purpose other than what they were doing. _Soulless_. Like he was. He tripped over their sprawled legs…fell smack on the floor …and looked into his own dead eyes through loose locks of stringy oily hair.

"I shoot up as soon as I come down. I make sure to stay high. People help me, we help each other."

He could see a man lying on top of him, rubbing against him. Rhythmic. His pants were undone, down around his knees. His was undone too. Grunting sounds reverberate in the hallow dark space. Saliva dripped out his mouth and Todd turned to avoid it. He reached out and touched the dust in the floor. The man's hip bones hurt but he didn't say anything because his fingers were sliding in the dust and he was spelling out words.

"I AM HERE."

"Yes, you are. Don't be afraid. It's just a memory."

 _Oh yeah, that's it, thatta a boy, real good, oh oh oh… yeah, yeah…pretty boy… you're gonna make me explode..._

The stranger finished and sat up, breathing hard. He then fondled Todd and Todd could see it happening but couldn't do a thing to stop it. The man kept up the touching, the pulling. Toby was watching and smiling, doing the same thing to himself. Another stranger joined the action. Todd tried to move away but he had no will, no drive, no fight. Someone held his head and he choked and gagged and they didn't give a shit, laughing… then they quieted and worked him until they got what they wanted. He saw himself spit stuff out of his mouth and then roll over, back to the wall so no one could get to him. He curled up like a pill bug and then slept. Didn't bother to pull his pants back up. Finally, he was left alone to his high.

 _The worst. Peter all over again. He didn't care. He didn't fight. Nothing mattered. Only the Princess of Peace swimming through him, quieting his brain, settling down deep inside._

 _You ready to ride again, partner?_

 _Yeah, do my wrist this time._

Todd said quietly, "Brandy said I wasn't built for that but I'd run out of money and I couldn't live without being high."

"Built for what?"

He only shrugs. "You know exactly what. Toby's."

 _How about you come with me to Grayson's? We'll do this one thing and then we can go home? We won't have to be out in the cold. What you say, baby? You'll even get somethin' out of it. He ain't never let me down before. I know he's hooked up. You can't stay here any more, baby. They're hurting you. Come on, come on._

He had a compulsion to grab himself, to protect himself. He rubbed his wrists because the stockings were tight and restricting him and he was getting sickeningly turned on.

 _The worst._

Todd dropped his head, closing his eyes, saying softly, "I don't want to go but I don't have money and I need more dope and I'm not built for Toby's so we gotta go."

Gregory got concerned, worried Todd was drifting for too long, worried he did something wrong. Busy shook her head, saying softly, "Nothing you did, you did real good with him. This is his way of protecting himself. To separate. He's living through something that he needs to live through. Let him come back easy. Go with it."

Busy was on the floor and she gently took Todd's hands into hers, "Todd, can you look at me?"

He did look at her after a little bit. Glassy eyes on hers. He wasn't really there.

"Remembering is part of the process of learning to cope with the setbacks. It's good to remember. Makes it not so scary."

He was in between worlds. Toby's on one side, Granite on the other.

"I don't want to…I hate it."

"I know."

The music was pounding in his head, a hip-hop song, heavy bass, rhymes in time with the _boom, boom, boom._ Repeating _._ The men standing around. He wasn't at Toby's anymore. He was at the apartment and Brandy was in a back room and he could hear her.

"You're perfectly safe, hon." Busy assured Todd.

"I'm never safe."

"Just hold my hands and walk me through it."

He had to go through the dream, this he understood. He had to witness the total surrender to heroin, the total loss of self-determination. He didn't have a choice. Shit just happened. Right? Certainly at Toby's. There, he was so high and so disconnected that he couldn't defend himself, didn't even try. Not really.

But Grayson's...

Barely audible, he said, "We went to this apartment." He stared downwards, at the darkness beneath him. "Brandy had a date there. I was high, but not enough. I wanted more. I was sick, coughing shit up. I had no money…and she thought to keep me with her 'til we could get to her place. She'd have money. I could get more…I could stay… peaceful..."

He couldn't breathe very well. It was so clear, vivid. 3-D, HD. He could see Phillip on the couch next to him…he had no idea at the time.

 _You can call me, Rock._

"Rap music played…and there were men all over, I didn't know them. And this one guy came up to me, asking me shit, asking me for a date like I was a hustler. And he was touching me and… I was creeped out but… all I could think of was the money he offered. I needed money and he was willing to pay me."

 _A suck or a fuck? What'll it be?_

Tears welled, threatening to roll down his face at the memory of it. But a coolness stopped them. The truth. What he wasn't saying out loud. The consciousness of it. It wasn't like Toby's. He knew he could do what the guy wanted. Because of Toby's. Because of Peter.

 _That's a lie. You liked it, you asked for it. Look a little closer. Lookie lookie._

 _Who are you?_

 _Drug-addict. Rapist. Ex-con. Killer._

He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. The room was so quiet. He suddenly lifted inside of himself, up above his body. He hovered right over his head. He could see he was terribly still, frozen, staring into space. He saw Mason… cool eyes on him. He watched Busy shake his shoulder to try to bring him home. Still, he hovered. She shook her head to a worried Gregory. She put an assuring hand on Greg. He could hear her say, "It's okay, he can be in this state for a long while. He'll come back."

She turned back to Todd.

"Can you tell me what happened next?"

"You know what happened next," he said dreamily.

 _One thousand it is, Pretty Boy, who ain't a faggot but is sure willing to take the green._

"No, I don't know, hon, why don't you tell me."

"Nobody came into my room at night…nobody jumped me…I wasn't high like at Toby's. I was offered money and I said, _yes._ "

Gregory said, "Was that the worst?"

He felt a sinking into himself. The hovering was ending. He blinked. Licked his lips. Busy smiled at him. He was back. He dipped his head onto her shoulder. Felt a deep, all-consuming sorrow for himself. For the little boy who couldn't fight. For the adult who gave up. The sadness was so powerful he couldn't even cry.

"It's okay, you're okay. You survived something harrowing. A lot of people die in those galleries. You didn't. You're here."

 _Was he?_

Todd shrugged, sniffled. Felt Busy's hand rub his head like a mom rubs a child's head. He was embarrassed but liked the touching. She was talking to Gregory and Jonah, sharing a funny story about another patient. He sniffled and soon pulled away from her. Wrapped his arms around his knees. He was fully present.

"You ok? You did real good, hon."

"It was the worst, I guess."

Hard call to really say what the worst was. Phillip? Or Toby's? Or anything with Jedediah, smashing him against the wall because he took his dope… or him pounding on the door thinking he could stop him. Or maybe shooting up with his little girl in the other room at Dorian's… or doing all that shit to Brandy…or killing Phillip in cold blood.

 _Jesus Christ._

Mason suddenly got up and stormed out the door. Todd picked up the cigarette he'd dropped earlier. He lit up.

Gregory asked gently, "You still want to get high, Turtle?"

"Not really," Todd said in a barely audible voice. "I'm a little sick, now. Thanks a whole bunch…"

Busy smiled at him, "You had to do it. You have to go back to go forward."

"I don't know about that," Todd grumbled. He shrugged off Busy's hand. She'd kept holding him.

"What comes next, Gregory?" she asked.

"Umm…well, so now, we've thought it through…and have remembered the bad part of using…so it's time to lift yourself up. Think about something else, something new to focus on. Move on. It was a bad deal, that getting high. Led to regretful, hurtful things."

"What else can Todd do…alternatives to remembering those awful things?"

"He could pretend that someone he loves wants to use…Todd has a kid, he could think about his kid – what would he tell him? Would he hand him a spike full of dope? Teach him how to shoot up? Or would he lay out all the reasons not to."

Turning to Todd, Busy asked, "What would you do?"

"Lay it out," he said, resigned. "I'd die if he did that."

"So why are you any different than your son? YOU ask for drugs…YOU tell yourself all the reasons not to use. DO what you'd want your son to do, which is…?"

"Not use."

"We'd hope so," she said.

Gregory patted Todd on the shoulder and held out his hand. Todd looked at it, that big paw. He took it and got to his feet.

"Now," Gregory said, "…maybe we should have another round of poker?"

"No, I think I'm gonna head to my room. Um… thanks?"

"You don't have to be alone. I won't leave you until you're alright. Won't leave a turtle stuck upside down."

Smiling slightly, Todd nodded, "I know…thanks. I'm okay. I get it."

"Most important thing is to have a plan when the freakouts happen. Which I don't think you do. And distraction. Work, games, a woodworking project…writing a novel…anything that pulls your attention away from the drugs."

Busy winked at Gregory, while he shrugged, hoping to have helped. Todd flicked the cigarette stub out the window.

"I promise," he said, "I'll get a plan."

"Good man."

The group had wandered back in the room. They were all over and Cristal stopped Todd from leaving. He groaned and then gave in. He supposed hanging around was better than not. She made him sit next to her and Sherry on the sofa. Busy talked a little. Encouraged everyone else to share their worst experiences…and they did.

Todd listened. Stayed present. He was in between Sherry and Cristal and he felt their warmth and he was surprised at how badly he needed it.

Busy closed the impromptu meeting with a secular-type prayer. When she was done though, when she took in their sad expressions, she glowed.

"What an amazing group of survivors you guys are. Wow…rejoice in such accomplishment! So many will never make it as far as you, but you have – you're all doing it. I'm so honored to be getting to know you…getting to share in your tough journeys through this life. You're warriors…you bear the scars of so much fighting…but I'm looking at beautiful faces of victory."

Cristal hopped up, imitating Todd's earlier dance, "Whooo! We win, we win, we win!

Everyone laughed while Sherry burst into tears.

Busy chuckled, and gave her a big hug, "Awww…you're so sweet, Sherry…"

After some moments of recovery, Busy said, "Well, kiddies…it's about an hour from lights out…you guys can continue with your party…or…whatever. I'm around if you need me."

She smiled, gave a wave, and then left.

Sherry was still emotional and Cristal was holding her, talking to her softly. Douglas came back to the table. Took another cigarette. The music started playing again…and Gregory started doling out cards to everyone.

"Five card draw, no booty…jacks wild. Everybody just fucking play."

"What happened to the no-swearing rule?" Raul quipped.

"It's Friday…fuck the rules."

They started picking up cards…Todd joined them at the table. He looked at his cards. Looked at his… _friends._

 _White, red, black._

Still felt the vibrations of _all of it,_ so long ago…and yet not. He admitted he was still breathing. Yeah, he definitely survived a lifetime's worth of battles. Had more than enough scars to show for it.

 **To be continued….**


	14. Chapter 14

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 14**

The last card game of the night finally ended, the music was shut off, and it was time for Granite residents to get to bed. Everyone gave their high fives and fist bumps and hugs and headed to their rooms. The main room grew dim with the night lights and Todd was beyond wrung out. Shouldn't have stuck around for another hand.

He trudged up the stairs, hating his own fragility, hating the fears he lived with. His breaks were humiliating, mortifying. But he admitted that there was a familial aspect to the people here. He was not the only one to have total meltdowns.

At least once every other day, one of their group members fell apart with sobbing hysteria, raging to the point of needing a sedative, or the classic… running out the door. He heard the other group had a patient with multiple personalities, a la Viki. Whenever things got bad, he would become a French model with a stutter. Sometimes, someone went to the infamous rubber room. Nobody in his group had actually seen it, but they swore it was real.

Granted, he was the only one in THIS group that completely checked out of reality. He often wondered what he looked like when that happened… wondered what people saw. They never told him, and he didn't ask.

It was embarrassing enough.

He opened the door to his room and immediately saw that the lights were out. Figured Mason must be sleeping. He remembered that Mason had disappeared from the meeting room at some point. He turned to shut the door, not wanting to make noise…

And next thing he knew, he was smashed up against the door, Mason digging a shoulder into his back and breathing in his ear.

"There ain't anything worse than a fuckin' faggot tryna pass as straight, acting the homophobic asshole. And worse, using your poor-me bullshit to _feed_ that garbage? Fuck you."

"What did I do?" Todd asked, huffing at Mason's steely hold of him. It had been a long night and he had no interest in fighting with anybody. Just couldn't access it these days. He sometimes wished he could, wished he could rage like a lunatic… but no, he got to go catatonic. Fuckin' ridiculous.

"I hate homophobic assholes," Mason growled.

"Don't we all?"

"Not you apparently!"

"Dude, can we just talk? I'm tired and my head is spinning and I don't have it in me to playfight."

"I'm not playing!"

"I'm not one to brag but… any scenario where you are fighting me… and you come out of it in one piece… is gonna be playfighting."

"Oh screw you! What the-"

"Can we just talk, man?! Come on!

Mason grunted and let Todd go. Todd turned in place and he leaned against the door. Eyed his fuming roommate in the shadowy dark. Finally, asked, "What did I DO?"

"Getting your dick sucked by a guy was the worst thing that heroin brought you? That is some homophobic bullshit and you know it. What's worse is I got no doubts that you play for _my team._ And in my book, faggots that feed the enemy deserve the lowest pits o'hell."

There was an instant of silence and then like a firecracker, Todd burst out laughing, putting his hand up, anticipating Mason would not read his reaction right at all.

"Sorry, sorry… I'm not laughing at you...just at the pathetic sound of _that_. Did I actually say that?" He couldn't stop laughing. Jesus Christ, how the fuck did he end up here in this moment with such colossal _garbage_ to manage?

"Yeah, you did."

"Well… that IS some bullshit! Do you know what happened _after_ the dick-sucking?" He could barely get the words out.

"You came?"

Todd laughed even more, "I didn't! No, no, it's even worse…I got bit! I still have a scar!" He gasped with the laughing, the absurdity of the entire awful Phillip experience. On its face… it was fuckin' ridiculous. In light of this new reality brought to him by his roommate, his voice got a little high… "You wanna see it?"

"You're real hysterical."

"Oh no, no, no, there's more!"

Todd raised his index finger and was crying now with the joke of his _extreme_ idiocy.

"I walked out of that apartment.., with $1000 in my pocket… and dope… and I shot up enough to OD. I nearly died!" He laughed, bent over laughing. "Do you hear it? I nearly _died_ … because I got my dick sucked by a fuckin' lunatic. What the FUCK?!"

God, he was an idiot. Oh he knew, yeah, yeah the whole Peter thing… the whole Phillip-was-his-cousin-who-raped-Georgie-and-killed-Michelle thing… the nightmare of hellish abuse… blah, blah, blah….

But… a blow job made him want to die? His chest was hurting with the laughter.

"You gotta explanation for the big fuckin' joke here, _Turtle?"_

Todd smashed his hands to his mouth, laugh-crying, eyes still on shadowy Mason. He breathed to stop the hysteria, the stupidity, the sloooooow turtle bullshit. He spasmed with the effort and then with a few more shaky breaths he dropped his hands. Breathed again. And with that, the laughter finally subsided.

Todd hunched over, hands on his knees, and looked up at Mason, one eye squeezed shut at the pain of controlled hysteria. Asked, "Can I sit?"

Rolling his eyes, Mason grumbled, "Whatever. I just want the goddamn truth, _faggot_."

Todd collapsed on the bed, head on his pillow. He reached to the night table and flipped on the reading light. He laid eyes on his roomie standing by his own bed with his arms crossed, waiting, eyed the ratty black combat boots, checkered red and black pants, the stretched and worn black Sex Pistols tee-shirt, and the tattoos up and down his arms. Severe track marks were hidden in the crossed arms. The brown short, spiky hair lay limp, framing a face that might have been handsome or even cutesy at some point but someone or something had taken him through a walk in hell and it showed in the fine nose that veered leftish, freckles that had lingered too long past adolescence, and full lips that bore permanent bite marks from his habitual chewing on them. Todd could now see the real upset on his face. That was some serious hurt.

"Isn't it a little homophobic to call me that?"

"If the shoe fits."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Are you gay? Pretending to be straight?"

The question exhausted him. It was old and acidic and screamed out of Peter's mouth every time he called him _faggot._ It drove him through his raging teens, after Michelle, grunting in his ear in the pile on a football field and in the locker rooms, and it burned down in his loins every time he fucked a girl… or raped her. Mason asked a seemingly innocuous, or at least simple, question… but there wasn't anything easy in it to Todd, the depths to which it sank bottomless.

"Not pretending anything. I…uh... I'm a pretty straight guy, nothing but chicks my whole dating life..."

"Bullshit."

He lost his voice at the derision, the thick tar-like hate in Mason's voice. It made Todd sick. The joke faded. It took a moment or two. When he spoke, a ragged soft voice came out of his mouth.

"I'm just trying to get back to my family, man. Trying to learn to live without dope. This? This… _thing_ you're throwing at me? I can't deal with it. No space in my HEAD for it."

"You ever suck a guy's dick? Ever jerk him off?"

 _Ohhhh…wow_ …Todd could feel an instant pause in his mind, a blast of white noise, static… and he held on to Mason's gaze hard because he did not want to disappear and Mason didn't know that he was walking that psychotic-edge and this whole fucking convo was about to go down the tubes… so Todd wiped at his face, scrubbed his face like he was washing it with goddamn sandpaper … and he shook his head.

"Not that I _specifically_ recall," he croaked. "Nothing...that has happened in—not since the bullshit with my father if that's your question."

"So then… this dick-sucking thing in some apartment… was just that once?"

Todd glanced away for too long and Mason yelled, "Look at ME!"

"Okay okay…"

"Was it just that once?"

Todd looked at him and the question was so plain and even normal and it made Todd realize that his… life... was so very confusing when he said things out loud. He shrugged. Then shook his head at a truth he really really hated to present, really wishing he could be standing on a pedestal and denying this to a large crowd of people from all over, not because it was _bad…_ but because it was terribly… _confusing_. He wished he could say proof-positive he was gay or straight… but this weird in-between bullshit… was fucking torture.

"No," he finally said. "Shit happened in a gallery…I can't even tell you specifics because I was high... _"_

"So you might have sucked dick…might have jerked dudes off… might have been fucked in the ass."

 _Atta boy, atta boy, keep real still for me…almost there…_ _you be a real good boy…oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah..._

Todd huffed, "Jesus Christ…"

"So… your _worst…_ was all _that_. Still sounds homophobic _and_ hypocritical."

He rubbed his face hard again with both hands, rubbing like he was the muddiest kid in the room, like he was covered in sticky, suffocating glue and couldn't get it off because it was never going to come off, never going to wash away.

"No," he insisted, "the _worst_ wasn't being with a guy… it was giving up. I was abused by my dad and… I have been real protective over who gets to touch me and who can't and… I stopped caring. People did things to me in that gallery and that apartment…"

 _And the park, outside the bathroom. Don't forget that._

 _We can do so much more._

"...and… yeah, I… uh… did things back, and ultimately, I didn't give a shit. _That's_ the worst, I mean…" He snorted bitterly. "That's just _one_ of the worst things. I got a whole goddamn list. Like most everybody here."

"So it wasn't the sex act by itself- I mean sex _acts_. Plural."

Another pause, another sigh.

 _Plural._

An inconsolable sorrow coursed inside of him that squeezed his heart to the point where he couldn't breathe, where he just knew it was going to disintegrate into nothing because…

"I stopped caring about what happened to me, meaning it didn't matter if I lived or died. I wasn't a person anymore. Just… body parts. Get it?"

Mason plopped down in his bed. He seemed to be thinking about what Todd was saying, trying to apply his own worldview on Todd's fucked-up world. He was picking at his nails. Chewing on his lip, biting so goddamn hard, Todd was surprised he wasn't bleeding.

"You ever bully gay kids, you know, when you were in high school? 'Cause suddenly, I can see you doing that kinda shit."

Todd grunted and pulled his hair back, his hand mashing into the pillow. He eyed his boots, imagining the steel at the tips.

 _I ain't a faggot! I ain't a faggot!_

Kick, kick, kick.

That word was a favorite of his father's whenever Todd failed at tasks, at school, erred in football games and practices. At every turn, he heard the word. _What are you, a faggot? You faggot! Stop being such a faggot! You're running like a faggot, no wonder that scrawny moron could take you down! Only a faggot would get clocked by a girl!_ Even that night in front of Michelle, an arm around his throat, choking him, belly burning, though the exact phrasing… mercifully escaped him.

 _Like father like son. Faggot._

He wiped hard at face, vision swimming, rock in his throat, because he was ashamed to say the truth to Mason. Fact was, he told nobody about _any_ of his bad acts. That was a place he really was not ready to go to in any session, especially considering that these people were his... _friends._ Yeah, he actively hid what he did to Marty Saybrooke, to the others. Pathetic. Rotten. Desperate to keep the modicum of community he had found. He liked being a run-of-the-mill fucked-up person. If they all knew why he'd gone to prison… he couldn't even verbalize the chicken-shit quality of that.

He nodded at last. "Of course I did. I was a football player. A quarterback. I was _exactly_ as you say, a homophobic asshole, a liar. I acted like I'd never been touched by… or did the touching…"

Mason put his hand up now, reluctant but… admitting, "Hey, no, that isn't the same thing. You said you forgot so-"

"No, don't give me that, don't even try. It's a fact. Somewhere inside of me, I knew what had happened. And still I made fun of kids, called them names, made fun of them doing things like getting their dick sucked or sucking dick or whatever … and I knew, even if I didn't _know_ … that I had given as much as what was done to me- I _was_ a homophobic hypocritical asshole."

Mason shook his head, difficult reality he had to consider. "You were forced, raped. It is not the same thing. You come talk to me when you do it willingly. With joy. With love."

The words hurt. Todd couldn't explain why. He rubbed his chest, his heart. He felt a breaking there. Maybe it was hearing the words _raped, forced_. Maybe it was the idea of having sex _with joy, with love_. He had a hard time with that. Sex was never so free with him. It ALWAYS meant something dark and manipulative and it was always fraught with mines. He wanted to say that Téa was an exception but… he was on methadone when they made love that week before he relapsed, all those nights, hard-to-believe-they-ever-happened nights.

He had no idea if he could be with her… so freely, so purely… with joy, with love…

… _sober_.

He closed his eyes and fought to get out of the dark that engulfed him. He was shaking with the effort. Once calmed, he shrugged and said quietly, "I get what you're saying… but I can't dismiss it. I just can't. I HAD those experiences and I should not have attacked innocents like I did. You got real reason to hate me. Had I known you then, had I bumped into you then, you… would have known ME. You would have heard from ME."

His last words were said in a low timbre with a very real cutting edge.

He then sat up and put his booted feet on the floor. The two men faced each other. Todd looked Mason in the eyes, noticing for the first time how blue they were, like a clear and deep tropical sea. How they showed such hurt. He had been a bullied kid, bullied by a guy just like Todd.

"I am sorry," he said, "for anything I mighta said out there that made you feel… _bad_. I got no problem with you or with what anyone says they are. I'm sorry for having been such a terrible person to kids just like you. Wish I had more thoughts about this, more _knowledge_ … but I'm an ignorant fucked-up junkie that can't seem to step out of my head long enough or far enough away to make sense of anything…"

Mason's features gentled slightly, released his lip from between rabbit-teeth. "Yeah...okay. You are _pretty_ ignorant."

They were quiet some moments. Then Mason asked, "Turtle, you ever kiss a guy?"

Todd shrugged tiredly, the conversation way beyond his social and emotional capabilities at this point.

"Oh shit," Mason groaned. "Who did you kiss in a shruggy way, Mister I'm-pretty-straight?"

"Did I say I was _pretty_ straight?"

"Yeah. So who did you kiss?"

Todd rolled his eyes, muttering about being _pretty_ straight, then answered, "I think… I might have kissed my doctor? I was _pretty_ fucked up. I was just real glad to see him, you know, he's like a super nice guy, like—."

Mason now laughed. He laughed so hard, he was hunched over, and he slapped the bed.

Todd groused, "What?"

When Mason finally caught his breath he hopped to Todd's bed. Sat right next to him. "You really are pathetic. I think you're bi and just don't know it."

"Nooo. What?"

"Bisexual? You hit for both teams? Swing both ways? Or _all_ ways if you want to be PC and agree that gender isn't binary."

Todd was struck. He couldn't even respond, just stared. This was not something that applied to him, that ever—

"Get outta here," he rasped. Then, "What makes you say that? What?"

"Call it instinct. Sixth sense. _Gaydar._ And the fact that your response to a doctor-crush was to kiss him. It clears up _everything._ "

He chuckled and Todd looked, well, _confused._

"Well, shit. You never heard of that?"

"I have but…"

"It's nothing that matters now," Mason assured him. "Don't be too worried about things. Just… work on getting your family back. You, my friend, are not ready for the big leagues. My team...might have to wait for _you._ "

"Fuck," Todd sighed. "I always made first string. I can't believe this shit."

And at that, Mason chuckled and leaned over, hovering inches away from Todd's face. "May I kiss you? Like a real kiss. Nothing to shrug at."

Todd took a breath, studying this very strange, constantly irritating person. And he heard something in the request, something he wasn't sure any man had ever done to him in his whole life and it made him ache.

Not the idea of a getting kissed, but the _asking_.

Todd blinked and swallowed and rubbed his lips together, Curious, maybe, moved certainly, he then nodded, a barely-there motion, and Mason moved in the rest of the way and planted a solid kiss on Todd. Full lips right on his, eyelids flickering then closing. It was warm and tender and for some reason, it brought tears to Todd's eyes. It was so kind and so giving and Mason wasn't taking anything or violating him. It was just a kiss. Like what kids used to do. Two kids… on a bed... having a first kiss.

To Todd's own surprise, he kissed Mason back, just a little, an impulsive delicate grab of his mouth, feeling a firm masculine touch in it. Definitely different. He tasted Twinkie and a cigarette and... _forgiveness_. Mason began to pull away but Todd reached for his tee-shirt and kept him close, their lips joined. He wanted to live in that moment just a little bit longer.

When they separated, Mason caressed his friend's cheek, the beard on his jawline. The scar there. Kissed him again, a silky grip, a quick brush of his tongue, and then he pulled away. He reached up and wiped away a tear from under Todd's eye that had snuck out.

"Now you can definitely say, you kissed a guy. No heroin to mess up your memory. And no fuckin' _shrug_."

"Fuck you," Todd said softly, chuckling. Embarrassed at how sensitive he was these days.

Mason smiled and flopped back onto his bed, reaching down, taking off his boots. "Life is a goddamn mess, Turtle. Just keep working this program. I will too. And as a note, you're not my type."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Not my type, dude."

"Jesus…Sherry said I dripped sex. You don't think so?"

Laughing, Mason stood and stripped down to his boxers and climbed into his bed. He yawned a wide, oh-so-tired yawn. "I like 'em kinda femme. You are way too butch for me. If we had sex, it would look more like a brawl than love-making."

Todd chuckled and leaned back on his bed. Then laughed a little more. "I am kinda capable of being gentle, you know."

"Doubt it. Goodnight, Turtle."

"Goodnight," he said. Then he had to ask, maybe wanting to see if that taste of forgiveness was real or not. "Do you hate me? For being that asshole in school?"

Mason looked at him. "No, I'm sorry for you. You haven't had a lot of kisses and I don't know how many are gonna be needed to fix you. Try to sleep, dude."

He rolled over and that was that.

Todd took a deep breath and relaxed. Looked at his boots. Listened to Mason's sleepy sighs. He flipped off the light and touched his lips. The kiss had been too kind and he was far too undeserving. And yeah, kisses, asked for or not… weren't gonna fix him. It broke him a little, actually. Made him miss home. Made him miss what he could have been, what he never was. Made him miss his Téa. Missed the gentle love-making that they had done, missed the brawling she took and loved. Sober sex may have been a distant dream but… what they did have… did matter. It had _moved_ him.

When Mason was asleep, Todd left. He couldn't take another second in that little bed.

* * *

He walked the hall past the other bedrooms. Went down the stairs and through the main great room. Then walked out the side door. Once outside, he shivered in the cold. All he wore was his tee-shirt and a thick flannel shirt over his jeans. Thank god for his boots. He hoofed it across the dark open space leading to a small grove of trees where the shed was, where he'd gone with Cristal.

The moon was out, the first clear night of the week. When he got inside the shed, he sat on the rug for the longest while, not sure why he was here. He supposed he wanted to feel the loneliness…needed it. He touched his lips again. Mason was crazy. He had no room in his head for analysis.

One day maybe.

Found himself working on a plan like Gregory had mentioned because he wanted dope so much it hurt. So he worked through that whole thing. Breathing to abate the panic, thinking on the _worst_ to kill the craving.

Instead of getting dragged down in the ugliness, he found the memories could serve a larger purpose. God, the awfulness could have _value_ …it was a reason not to use again…as opposed to an excuse to get high or a reason to take a leap off a cliff. He could put it in a place.

He lay down on the rug, bringing his knees up towards his chest. Curled like the image he remembered from Toby's. Instinctively cupped himself to protect himself. With his free hand, he touched his lips, then the swirls in the threads…saw the cards being shuffled…

 _White, red, black._

He was awakened by a feathery hand on his cheek, felt a new warmth lying across his body. Looking up, he could see Cristal. She'd put a blanket from the main room on him.

"I thought you'd be here," she said.

He didn't answer, just gazed at her…

"You weren't very stealthy. A guard saw you. Busy must sense you and I are close. She asked me if I knew where you went, asked before she called the cavalry."

She was squatting next to him. She caressed his hair, touched his cheek lightly, fingertips dragging across his beard. He sat up, hugging his knees…she did the same.

"Weird night, huh?"

"Yeah," he sniffed.

"Who's Brandy? Gregory said you mentioned her in your freak-out."

Todd hadn't expected the question, immediately fingering the wedding ring. "A woman…not my wife."

"She was with you a while?"

"Could say that."

"Like pulling teeth…"

He looked at her, had sworn to be different, worn out from talking just the same…saying after a few moments, "She was a hooker. I met her the first time I used H...and…um…pretty much never left her my whole run. She never left me."

"Where is she now?"

Half-way laughing, he said, "With my sister. Brandy's working on her own things. Trying to become a survivor, I suppose. She wasn't into drugs like me – she was into other stuff. Just as bad."

Familiar sadness crept into his bones at the thought of her and he worried for her, wished he could talk to her. In a way. Knew though that the sound of her would be devastating and that just her voice screamed of heroin.

Cristal had moved closer to him.

"You never talk about your wife…none of us even know her name."

"Téa," he said quietly.

"That's beautiful…you put her through the ringer?"

"Years worth. A lifetime's worth. She has reason to not wait for me, you know?"

"That part of why you came here with me?"

"I don't know…maybe. Preemptive."

She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes.

"You put Darren through the ringer?"

Cristal laughed…one that didn't last. "Years of it…I've been doing this shit on and off since he and I first met. He did it, too…but several years ago, he got clean."

"What changed him?"

"Lost our kids. The state told us we weren't fit to raise dogs, much less our babies." She wiped the tears that had welled in her eyes. "They've been with my cousin…they don't see us much."

Todd reached to her and held a couple of braids in between his fingers, eyes on hers. Plenty of telegraphing he could not help. Didn't even intend it, sex being far off his mind, but there it was anyway.

She placed her fingertips on his chin, close to his lips. "What you doin', Turtle? You trying to kill whatever you might have left with your wife?"

"Maybe," he said, letting her hair go.

"Oh baby…don't waste those fiery touches of yours on me. Store 'em up…like precious stones."

He lay back down on the rug, staring upwards into the dark, pulling the blanket over him. Brandy had used those words once…it was how she got through her life. Storing up nice things, nice moments…like precious stones.

Cristal lay down next to him on her side, curling to get under the blanket. He moved it a little to cover her more. He played with the ring again and said, "You know, tonight, I made it sound like letting that guy suck me off was the worst follow-through of heroin. Mason was—"

"Real pissed off."

"He told you?"

"Yeah. Remember… I mentioned to you that he thought you was in the closet? So he didn't appreciate what you said."

"Right. Anyway. I apologized. But even so… the real worst is something else..."

"What?"

"Losing Tea. I'd say my kids, but I kinda expect to lose kids. They grow up, get their own families... it's not like Téa. Not like a lover or...partner. Over the past few years, I've lost her over and over again. I've watched her leave me countless times, I've walked away from _her_ countless times…each time I shot up, I watched her disappear." He choked up. "The day I left our house to come here…I knew I'd never see her again. She'd been so mad at me, with good goddamn reason. And we ended up... making love? She was trying to save me, you know, doing everything she could... and in the middle of it, I realized I'd never felt her so much as that day. I never believed in her love…the way I did that day. But then…I came here… and it all went to shit. All I could see, alI I was, was sickness. Love… disappeared."

They sat for some minutes…just quiet.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone who wants to be loved so badly as you," she said, "who has so much lovin' to give and holds it in as tight as you do. The way you touched me that one night…goddamn...I can only imagine what you would do for the real woman in your life, when sober…when you're really there. It takes my breath away, the possibilities. No wonder heroin is such a thing for you…it's not the _drug_ that has you…it's the other way around. It's _you_ who stole Heroin's heart…you laid those hands of yours on her and the Princess can't let you go."

He wanted to cry again. He so wanted the drug to let him go. He so wanted to be all Crystal claimed…to Téa. Wished he could take her breath away. He was about to say something. She put fingertips on his lips to stop him from talking.

"I have something for you," she said. "It's against the rules…not that such a thing bothers you, but it's gone around to everybody in our little group, least once. You being the most recent inductee…you get a shot, too."

Todd sat up slowly, "What is it?"

She reached into her baggy pants and pulled out a cell phone, handing it to him. "Here…you call Téa. Tell her you love her…that you got some hope inside of you." When he took the phone, she said, "If you need me, I'm here. I'll come to you…but…I think you should be faithful to yourself, to your own heart. Don't be long. Busy will call the guards on you."

With that, she walked out of the shed.

It took some time, but he got the courage to dial the number. He smiled when he heard the voice of the one who had his heart.

But it was an answering machine.

He hung up, images immediately springing forth about other men…about anybody who'd be worthy of her and it truly hurt. Or worse…maybe she was with someone simply to make her _feel good._ He took a breath, forcing himself not to come to conclusions, to accept what he had no right to object to.

So he dialed her cell phone number. And got no answer…at first…

A tired voice answered finally at the ninth ring and it sounded like she was in the car…

"Téa?"

"Todd? What's wrong? It's after 1 in the morning!"

"I miss you…where are you? I tried the penthouse…are you out? With someone?"

The phone got static on it…and Todd swallowed hard…troubled again… "Téa?"

The airwaves cleared up. "Oh no, Todd…I'm sorry…no, no, no, I'm not out with anyone. Well, that's not true-

"What?"

"It's okay…some things have come up." Her voice was tense…and Todd held the phone like his life depended on it.

"What things? What's going on?"

"Jed and I are on our way to you. I know you told us not to come…but... I love you. Are you all right?"

"No…you're scaring the hell out of me. You sound...wrong."

"I don't mean to."

"When are you going to be here? You're coming _now_?"

"Yes…I have a cabin in the mountains not too far from where you are. We'll be there…don't tell anyone, _amor_ …I'm breaking laws…I'll explain everything."

"What?"

"I'll explain…we'll be there."

"I'm worried now."

"I know…don't be…we're fine. But…wait, what phone are you on? Todd…you haven't run from the place, have you? Please tell me you're still there…"

"Oh yeah…I'm sort of sneaking here to call you…it's hard to explain, but I wanted to tell you…that things are good. That…" He started to cry a little, "Téa, I love you and I want to come home and I want us to really have a life together. I know I've said that before…but…I really think things are gonna be different. I believe that…"

"Oh god…I love you, too, and I can't wait to see you," and he heard her start to cry, too. "I wish the world was different," she sniffled.

"Me too…is it pretty where you are?"

She laughed, "Oh god…what have they done to you? It's really dark!"

"I guess it kinda looks like here. I'm cold, Téa…I wish you were here. Right now."

"Me too. Soon…damn these hills…I can't hear you…goodnight, sleep well. I love you."

"Goodnight, Delgado."

* * *

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah…go ahead," Todd said. "I'm ready."

Mason shook his head, "All right, dude…but don't come crying to me when your woman says she hates it. When you cry your little bitchy eyes out."

"No…go…I can handle it. I think."

"You hesitating, you _shrugging?_ "

After a moment, Todd reaffirmed his position. "No….go. I'm _pretty_ decided."

"I'm doin' it, _pretty_ decided or not."

With that, Mason took a massive chunk of Todd's hair into his hands and cut right through it with the scissors he stole from the kitchen.

When Todd looked into the hand mirror…he smiled, wrinkling his nose.

"Oh shit…"

Mason cracked up, making fun, "Poor Mrs. Turtle, she's gonna pass out – 'what happened to my hard-shelled junkie?! Oh mama…he's gone!'"

"She's not gonna know me."

" _I'm_ hoping _I_ won't know you. That way the nightmares can stop."

As Mason worked at getting the hair decent, as decent as a non-barber could get his now-short hair, he asked, "And the tattoos? You still want the ones we talked about?"

"Yeah…I'm sure of it."

"I think you should be on TV. Extreme Fucked-Up Dude Make-Over…"

Todd chuckled and so did Mason. And before long, the two were laughing harder than either had remembered…in forever.

 **To be continued...**


	15. Chapter 15

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 15**

A twisting creek that most likely led to the New River lay beneath pines, the water sparking in the chilled morning sun. Despite the thick jacket she wore, the thought of the icy water made Téa shiver and she gripped the mug of coffee to warm her hands. She sat on a wooden slatted chair, situated at the end of the cabin's porch.

The place had been provided by a friend of a friend—it was perfect, not traceable as an official rental. The mountains were beautiful, almost too beautiful, hiding the fact that she and Jed bordered a fugitive's life.

Against the _strongly suggested_ orders of the Llanview P.D., Jed's separate court prohibitions, and what might be considered common sense, Téa had spirited Jed out of Pennsylvania, arriving in Fayetteville near 2:00 in the morning. She'd been confident in the decision, sure of it. In her mind, considering the obvious thirst the P.D. had for Todd's blood and the increased disregard for Jedediah's well-being, hiding Jed for a while became the only option. She figured that maybe with his disappearance, and hers, the authorities would be forced to slow their hunt down, they'd think about treating Jed with kid gloves. Maybe they'd think about his trauma in a different light as opposed to exploiting it.

Except Todd's midnight call had thrown her. His worry had made her think twice. Was she really doing the right thing? Was this really the best for Jed? When they'd lost contact with each other, all Téa could hear in her head was Todd's incredible struggle to lead a law-abiding life, to abandon the streets, the drugs…all of it…and here Téa was, flouting the law, turning her back on just what Todd was working to return to. At the penthouse, even Jed had been surprised at her decision, but for the first time since he'd been interrogated, his eyes had brightened.

"I used to go up there all the time, you know, with my friends. We'd camp out. Can we take Summer with us?"

"I'm sorry, _chiquito,_ no…we need to be on our own."

He'd gotten kind of sad again, breaking Téa's heart, and said, "Yeah…we can't involve her….it wouldn't be fair. It's kind of our problem… _mine_." Shrugging, he had murmured, "Maybe I can call her…or something."

"Yes, definitely. We're not going to be gone that long anyway."

"M-hm. Not that long…" The television held his attention for some minutes, then he smiled once more, "I won't have to answer any more questions."

"Not until we can reorganize."

And that was it. He seemed satisfied, relieved. Which was why Téa had been so sure leaving was proper.

They had a hell of time warming the secluded cabin which had been much larger than she anticipated. Through trial and error, they finally figured out there were two thermostats to two separate heating units and that they had to press a ridiculously camouflaged button to maintain the heat.

"Ah-haaa!"

They'd given each other a high-five as they felt the warm air coming at last through the vents and not stopping. At that, Jedediah swore off yet another career: a heating and air conditioning technician.

About three miles down the road was the smallest town Téa had ever seen, consisting of a stationary store slash post office slash business center slash pharmacy, a general store, a sports shop, a diner, a medical clinic and, of course, a lawyer's office.

Everything they could possibly need was nearby. Except, would Jed be getting what he needed? What about those things he saw? Those acts of perversion? Tim had told Téa just before she left, that Todd had seen similar things growing up. Todd…who now fought desperately to hang onto love, sobriety, sanity, whose voice across space and time had knocked her off-balance.

Her conflicted thoughts were disrupted by the squeaky opening of the door to the porch and she turned to see a sleepy Jed emerging from inside. Sniffing, making no attempt to fix the wave of hair sticking up, he plopped down in a chair next to her. Rubbed his nose. He looked younger than his sixteen years, with his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, his ancient jeans seriously wrinkled from having been tossed off and left crumpled in a corner of his "new" room, and his feet stuck into funky baby-blue snow boots he must have found.

"Good morning, there." Téa said smilingly.

He nodded just once, wearing a frown.

Téa reached over and patted his hand, "That just un-awake-ness or are you upset about something?"

He shrugged. "I'm an idiot."

"Oh my god, why are you saying that?"

"Cause it's true. I had in my mind looking for my mom. Now I'm here and what am I going to do? Go out there calling for her? Put up 'lost' posters like she's some puppy? Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Téa pouted sympathetically, caressing his hand for as long as he'd let her which wasn't more than two or three touches. She felt completely helpless. He looked so much like Todd sometimes, mostly when he was sad or angry. If it wasn't for the emotional reality that indeed he was wounded, she'd find it sweet, touching.

"If she'd been alive, I'd have seen her, I just know it. I was here all the time, every weekend, even during the week, hiking all over the place, sleeping in tons of different camp sites. I never saw anything…anyone…what have I been thinking all this time, Téa? Huh?"

"You were hanging onto a belief to get you through some very difficult times this past year. What's wrong with that?"

"Because it's like believing in Santa Claus, that's why. Stupid." His eyes roved the trees, the sky, before settling back into staring at the boots. He stuffed his jeans further inside of them.

"Here's an idea, you ask local folks about the myth you've heard of, talk to the authorities up here, the forest rangers…go hiking. We'll both go."

"Yeah, I guess."

"And Jed…you were never looking for her before."

He turned to her, eying her directly, "That's not true. I was always looking. I never saw anyone."

Téa ran her fingers across the top of the mug, sipped the now-lukewarm coffee…not sure how to ease his restlessness, nor change his focus. After some seconds of internal warring, she decided to share the phone call with him. Maybe he'd get some hope from it, maybe if he knew Todd was doing well, he would feel better about things. More hopeful.

"I heard from Todd last night, on our way up. You were sleeping." She said it as if he had called from a cruise ship. Her voice was light, spirited. She couldn't believe how fake it felt. She plastered a smile on her face.

He gazed at her suspiciously, too smart for his own goddamn good.

"When? What time?"

"It was late but—"

"He isn't supposed to talk to anybody after hours…that's what the paperwork said."

"I know," Téa whispered, surprising herself. She cleared her throat…said it again, "I know." She was beginning to lose her commitment to her sunshine presentation. Fast, she was losing the feel, the image, of Todd lying back on a recliner on a sunny deck…picking one strawberry after another off a grand plate of decadent fruit while chatting on a perfectly legal, perfectly allowed, non-contraband wireless…on a cruise.

 _Téa, I love you and I want to come home and I want us to have a life together. God, you should see what I'm seeing…dolphins, seagulls, a gorgeous ocean…next year, it's you and me…cruising down to Mex-i-co._

"But he called to tell me…"

"That he was doing great? That he wanted to come home? That he was going to be good from now on?"

 _I'm cold, Tea._

"Yes, he said those things, but—"

"I knew it…two, three days…he's outta there."

Jedediah was pissed…getting up, jumping off the porch steps…walking some yards away and then yelling. He punched the air, screamed wordlessly, finally kicking at the dirt. When that seemed unsatisfying, he picked up a stick and threw it…then, moved onto rocks and pitched them as far as he could, the sound of their hitting the trees echoing. With each violent toss, he cursed Todd, "Fuckhead!"

"Asshole!"

" _Dick-wad!"_

Tea was sure that somewhere there was a parenting book suggesting a decent mother shouldn't let children curse so freely. That maybe they should have a modicum of respect for elder folks, for their _parents_ …but she didn't say anything to alleviate his venting. It was good for him to get it out of his system—he more than likely was venting about a lot of different things. Those parenting books didn't take into consideration Jed's situation.

Moreover though, the ultimate reason she said nothing was because she didn't exactly disagree with the venom being spit at Todd. In fact, the last thought on her mind before she'd fallen asleep the night before, the first thought when she had awakened, had been: Todd sounded like a deprived, incarcerated _junkie_. No specifics to make her think that. No, she just didn't trust him. She could no longer glean the truth from the sound of his voice. She needed to see him, to look into his eyes…to feel the tremble of his body, but who was she kidding? Not even then would she be able to tell.

 _What was that, Todd? A manipulation? A game? Just a plot to get to the drugs? Are you now a whore, no better than Brandy, who can will an erection and have sex…to simply get your drugs? Are you high now, over how easy and stupid I am?_

 _Yeah…that's all it is. I am trickster, hear me mock you…dominate you. Feel me fool you._

The memory of every lie, every manipulation, the belief of every promise, every glimmer of hope…stung like hell. Everything had been wrecked by him, through his dogged refusal to embrace life and love. Why would Granite be any different than every other attempt to face his past and start living? Why would the phone call signify anything different from before? She had to work to stop tears of the most incredible, the most bitter disappointment.

Jedediah soon trudged down the hill, shouting without looking back, "I'm going to the fucking water. If he calls again, tell him I said to go to hell."

"Wait! Come back, Jed…please…"

He hesitated, before turning in Téa's direction, "Why?"

She smiled, "Breakfast. How can you go walking on an empty stomach? I'll make those frozen waffles. Or better…we'll go to the store…get stuff for fresh waffles. Or pancakes…or maybe we'll be lazy and go to the diner."

He was quiet, glancing in the direction of the creek and touching his stomach – reconsidering. He _was_ hungry. Turned and started back up.

Téa put her coffee mug down and stood, as he stomped up the steps. Before he could escape, she grabbed him, giving him a big hug, "I love you, Jedediah Chant."

He gently wiggled out of her grasp, grumbling, just like a real son would. She thought someone would consider her crazy to love his trying to get away.

* * *

Llanview's days had been gorgeous…cloud-dotted blue skies, crisp spring breezes, birds flying, people light-spirited, nothing short of Eden in Pennsylvania. Such natural beauty made finding Phillip Manning's house even more of a horror than it was. Neederman was good…found the place thanks to Jed saying he heard trucks in the background…and that the windows were foil-covered.

Again, the fresh air was a paradox to the stench coming from the quaint single-room country cottage right off the main highway. Phillip had bought it using a corporate front. No dead bodies…but there were bloody, yellow-stained sheets covering a bed, a smashed-up computer, the bread, jam and now-curdled milk Jed had described, and lastly…ten or so Polaroid shots of a nude Jedediah with some other boy. Posed shots. One of the more aware cops caught onto Bo's breaking into a sweat, caught the twitch of his eye when he flipped through the photos.

He'd never seen the Commish lose composure before.

"This the Chant kid who disappeared with his lawyer?"

"Yeah," Bo grunted. "Don't know the other kid. Send these out for analysis."

"Hey…if it's any consolation, the Chant boy looks really out of it. Definitely under the influence of something. I don't think he had any idea of this, sir."

Bo snapped, "Are you joking? This confirms he was sexually assaulted. His being aware doesn't change that."

"Just—"

"No 'just' anything. We allowed a monster free in our city for months. Jesus CHRIST." He watched the officer carefully place the photos into an evidence bag. He' d had business dealings with Phillip Manning, or rather, his family did. Couldn't erase _that_.

"Make sure we get an i.d. on that other kid. Do a search on all unsolved rape-murder victims—might have to get the D.A. to expand the list of wrongdoings by Phillip Manning. Scour this place for everything…anything."

Couldn't free himself of those pictures. They followed him the rest of the day, perching on his shoulder…all through the afternoon department meeting, through the close of his work day, through dinner…right through a made-for-T.V. movie about progeria, a rapid-aging disease. Jed's youthful form followed him to bed…not letting Bo escape the image of tangled bodies…of genitals exposed… _handled_. Jed might not remember, but Bo now knew. He hoped the kid would never know about it.

Neederman called, pressing to get support for a court order on Tim Graham, Todd's doctor.

"We've got to talk to Manning…and the doc knows where he is. 'Cause wherever he is, Chant is."

Bo found himself bothered by the persistence. Didn't give Neederman an answer, saying to call him in the morning. Went back to his movie about progeria and Nora's empathetic whisperings at his side, her pained commentary on the cheesy account of a dying child.

Even though it was mid-spring, the nights still had a wintry chill. Bo couldn't warm up…even though he cuddled with Nora, even though he wore flannel pajamas…a gift he'd never used before. It was in that mood of discomfort that sleep had finally caught him, dreams following a very real memory.

 _A voice, static ridden, said, "Haven't picked up the trail, sir."_

" _My GOD, how could this happen?!" Bo snapped, furious._

" _Too quick! It was unreal! First time it's ever happened!"_

" _Stop with the ass-covering and explain!"_

" _Yes, sir! We saw Todd Manning talking to some loser, saw the girl panic, realized we'd just seen the big Kahuna himself…that something was going down and fast. We moved into position to follow - and then like MAGIC they were gone, all of them!"_

In his dream, Bo followed the trail of Todd, Phillip and Brandy, a path lit up red. He walked into the maze of hidden tunnels beneath Llanview. He was out of breath, running through the scummy, sewer-like passageways, stumbling onto wooden-strut basements…warehouse-type places. He could hear screaming…screams the way Jedediah had described, angry yells. He followed the sounds. Fire had started…and smoke…he couldn't get to the noise fast enough, he was lost…

And then…he burst into a last room, and there against a pipe-lined, blackened wall was Todd. He sitting up, blood-soaked, arms stretched upwards and wrists lashed tight to the pipes. Christ-like, naked. His head lolled forward, long, rat-nested hair falling about his face. The color of the hair struck Bo as being too dark until he realized that the hair was blackened by blood.

An equally unclothed Brandy lay next to him, her head on his lap, eyes open and face upwards with her throat brutally slit…blood all over her thin, mangled body. And Jedediah…unclothed…lay on the other side of Todd, curled up against him in a fetal position. Dead, too, from a pulpy bullet wound to the back of his head. His body was washed in fleshy white…he'd escaped being splashed by the blood of Todd and Brandy.

But Todd…he was breathing…and he looked up at Bo…lifted his head, "I should have killed him. He wouldn't have done this."

Bo staggered to him, thumped to his knees, and worked to untie one arm. As gently as he could, layer by layer, he unwrapped the leather straps that had dug into Todd's skin. He croaked, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry we lost track of you. We weren't supposed to. We screwed up, Manning."

"Take them…bury them. Give 'em some dignity."

"How do I do that?" Bo moved to the other side and struggled with this second set of straps…they were even more unyielding. A sense of not wanting to hurt Todd anymore overwhelmed him, Todd groaning with pain at each release of another tie.

"How's there dignity in this? How can I give you something that's been taken away so permanently?"

"Don't drag their bodies through the streets. Don't hang 'em up in the center square. Cover my boy, Bo…cover him up."

"Your boy…"

Sensing the immediacy of the last request, Bo took off his jacket and lay it over the child, saying to Todd, "See? He's okay, now…"

Bo had a hard time turning away from Jed's youthful features draped in a cold, bluish pallor. Easily he recalled the boy's rebellious voice, the way he had told his father goodbye when Todd looked to be dying from a drug overdose. Bo, guilty, returned to Todd. And with that, while looking directly at Bo, Todd parted his lips in a gasp, breathed one last and died, incredible light life had given him fading from behind his eyes.

Bo in his dream finally cut loose the last of the straps and took the finally-freed Todd into his arms…sat with him, blood getting on him, and rocked him like a baby. Like how he did with Jessica when she was little. Singing some lullaby as he watched over Jed's body and Brandy's…that poor girl that the city knew was out there and never, not one time, protected. Not…one…time.

 _Protect and serve…that's what cops are supposed to do._

Nora shook him awake, Bo sobbing. He took a few settling breaths to orient himself, to realize it was a dream. He held his hands over his face.

"Christ…so real…"

"Was it Drew?"

He supposed there was something of that, the son he lost…and he nodded, "Yeah, Drew…my poor boy…I couldn't protect him. My boy…"

* * *

Raul had given him the idea when he commented, "We're all works in progress. Like a poem…like _tadpoles_."

It had stuck with Todd, the image of himself as a tadpole, swimming in water, poking his head up above pond scum. Half frog, half not, always a hope of making it on land, always an acceptance of those times he couldn't quiet breathe…

The tattoo artist, Lauren, kept up her work, saying, "Like I told you last week, I normally don't like touching scar tissue, but it's coming out pretty damn good if I may say so myself. These last bits…it's really pulled together beautifully."

She looked up at him briefly, her thin lips stretching into a soft smile, before filling in the empty space of a creature's tail. A lot of work and it hurt like hell.

The corners of his eyes twitched and he grit his teeth at each puncture of the needle. Not that he hated it…the repetitive punching burned and kind of pushed him into this strange haze somewhere between torture and an ecstatic high. He huffed, a reflexive near-laugh escaping.

"You okay?"

"Oh yeah, yeah…" He ran his tongue along his lower lip, keeping an eye on the back of Lauren's hand…it was heavily decorated by henna made into webby lines, an angry spider in the dead center.

"The inside of the forearm is really sensitive," she said, taking a break to wipe the area down, swiping the blood with a wet gauze cloth. The sight of the reddened material triggered a whole slew of images in Todd's head, primarily of mainlining and he guiltily let himself think about it.

"Want some water?"

"Yeah. Good idea."

He gulped half the bottle, relaxing a moment with his head back against the wall while Lauren got out a fresh needle for the tattoo device. She shook her head at him and Mason both as she threw the packaging away, because they'd looked at each other so knowingly. Needles were serious triggers to all those things that were so bad. The track marks on both men told her all she needed to know. She knew they'd come from the re-hab Granite House. She knew from their bracelets.

"You guys," she said softly as she started once again at filling in the empty spaces.

Inspired, it was Mason who'd designed the tattoos, forming delicate black lines and deep-blue swirls into several tadpole-like creatures climbing up the sides of cut-into-flesh vines. The creatures covered some of the track marks…and made the cuts on his forearms palatable to Todd. He took advantage of three different afternoon jaunts into Fayetteville to do it. Free afternoons with the group meant for shopping or stops at the library or just breathing in traffic air.

Today the whole thing would be finished.

Mason watched over her handiwork, not wanting her to fuck up what he'd spent so much time creating. "They're gorgeous," she said, "almost like something out of a Dali painting. Do you do any tattooing yourself?"

"Nah, I come up with the drawings…and have someone else put 'em on."

The broad lines of a tadpole's back grew more colored and so did the flashes of pain, Todd breaking into a sweat…keenly aware of a mild sexual reaction to it. Suddenly he could vividly see Téa beneath him, like back at the penthouse that last day, the burn of the tattoo making him think of the pain of the stockings on his wrists, the skin compressed, stretched, torn into, the direct signal to his cock. His eyes watered as the needle shot into him, as he knew the stockings would eventually make him come.

"Fuck," he gasped. He knew the thought meant something. He knew this wasn't his imagination. He didn't want to know more about it.

Lauren stopped, "You okay, hun?"

"Yeah, fine, sorry. Just ignore me."

Lauren took a break and he was kind of relieved…but not disappointed when Lauren picked up the work again.

She soon finished and Todd looked at the end result, nodding in approval, while Lauren put some ointment on the new work and bandaged him up. He paid off his bill, nothing to sneeze at. She smiled at him, at both him and Mason as she put additional ointment and aftercare instructions into a bag.

"You boys live around here?"

"No…" Mason didn't want to explain and walked out of the shop for a smoke. Leaned back against the wall right outside the door as he lit up.

Taking the bag, Todd decided to take advantage of the moment of privacy and ask about the myth of the girl in the forest. Lauren shook her head, "You're the second person to ask me about that…how weird."

"Yeah?"

"Yes…" She studied Todd, getting a strange look on her face. "I live up a ways into the hills…small place called Bridesmoat. I was buying some groceries when this adorable kid turned to me and asked me about it. Funny…he…sort of looked like you. Same eyes, same mouth, I swear to god."

"Really…what did you tell him?"

Todd figured it to be Jed – Téa said they were close to Granite. She'd said she was breaking laws. He was worried. Despite his concern, he couldn't bring himself to form ideas of why Téa was doing this. Couldn't bring himself to call Viki which he was permitted at his near seven weeks. Couldn't do it.

 _What if…what if…they were coming after him for Phillip?_

 _No, no, no…_

"I told him what I knew. That a woman's been seen all over this area – nobody knows her…but the ones who need help, get it. A snake-bitten baby…an old lady needing water…a boy who fell into a ravine…she helped them…then wandered away. Myth, you know? Ghost stories."

"What areas?"

"Specifically? Near-about Granite."

"Where else?"

"Southerly…northerly up by Hailey's Place. Um…someone mentioned off…um…the Black Cliffs? Where that girl died a few years ago. Honestly, I think it's kind of connected to her death. That's about the time people started seeing her. I mean…people invent stuff."

"What do they say she looks like?"

"Like that poor dead girl, of course. Long reddish-brown hair down below her waist…pretty like an angel…as if it could be any other way. Wears funky colored clothes…talks weird…"

Todd swallowed hard. His _spirit_ , the one who'd saved his ring, the one who talked him out of jumping.

 _Not possible…not possible…_

"Thanks," he choked out.

"Yeah, anytime. The tats…they're great. You guys take real good care of yourselves."

"Right," Todd managed to say, just in time to see Gregory sprinting up the sidewalk. Todd stepped outside, needing the fresh air.

"Let's go, boys. Bus is waiting…Busy will kick our assess if we're late. Can't wait to see the final product." He'd really liked the idea…and had been really touched by Mason's drawings. Said if Todd ever fell, if he ever found himself considering a needle, he'd see those climbing guys on his arms, and he'd remember not to hate himself for the thoughts he entertained…that he could make mistakes…that he'd just be reminded to work some more on getting himself upright, on getting well…on living up to all his dreams of who he wanted to be. He wasn't perfect but he certainly was beautiful as were all works in progress, with plenty of room to grow and change. Ultimately, he'd be this adaptable _creature_ , a survivor.

 _Fucking amphibious, man. That's what we all want to be._

As they made their way down the block, Gregory commented, "Mason, you're a real artist…I'd love you to come up with something for me. 'Cept…I'm too chicken to get a tat myself. "

"You know how stupid you sound? Man, Greg…a big guy like you?"

He chuckled, "I know…you wouldn't think so. My dad was a Marine…covered with 'em…real bad-ass motherfucker. Maybe I don't want to be him."

Todd grumbled, "I know that story."

"Yeah…so what did I do? Get hooked on drugs…just like him. None of us want to be them, but they sneak up on you."

Mason had to be contrary, "Bullshit. My dad was a performing drag queen…Cherry, as in _Cher_. I'm so not that."

Todd and Gregory laughed, Todd adding, "You know…I'd say you were lying, but Jesus, I don't think you are."

Mason shook his head, sighed, "Nope. It's fuckin' true. I was raised backstage all over."

"No shit!" Gregory laughed.

Mason got quiet… "Too bad they forgot they had me around…made it easy for me to find things to occupy myself with."

"Like art, your architecture," Todd said, trying to make Mason feel a little better, even though his instinct was to jump into the pit of misery with him being that he was walking the edge of the pit himself. "You're going to go back to school, remember?"

"We'll see."

Neither Gregory nor Todd asked at what point Mason's mother became an alcoholic. Which backstage led to that...was it before or after the show?

Once Gregory, Todd and Mason boarded the bus, they found they weren't the only moody ones. Everyone was, Cristal included who was seated next to Todd.

"I've had it," she griped, "For almost two weeks you've kept this to yourself…what's the story with the froggies? With the hair?" She ran her hand through the severe cut. "It had been so pretty…"

He smiled a little, then didn't, closing his eyes at her touch, imagining it was Téa. He thought about the woman he'd seen in the woods. His... _spirit_. He'd been hoping to learn of her for Jed's sake, but now…he wasn't so thrilled. Didn't know why. He nursed his bandaged left arm…hoping he'd be able to schmooze Tylenol from Granite staff.

 _Maybe Codeine? Ha ha ha ha…_

Crystal's eyes hardened, "You didn't answer me, Turtle. You pissed at me over somethin'?That why you not 'splainin'?"

He didn't say anything, eyes down.

"Okaaay," she hissed, turning to watch the road outside, letting herself feel the gentle breeze coming in through the slid-open window. Folding her arms tightly. Tapping her fingers.

Todd scooted down and put his head on her shoulder. "Don't be so bitchy," he said softly.

"I hope you don't talk like that to your Téa."

"And what if I do?"

"Then you deserve getting your junkie-ass kicked to the side of the road."

He kind of chuckled, getting kind of sad. Worried again for Téa, but didn't want to go there. Drifted to thinking of the spirit in the clearing, her booted feet firmly on that rock, telling him all about love. Asking him not to open his eyes … because he needed to listen. But maybe it was literally so he couldn't see who she was. She didn't want any recognition. Could it have been Michelle? Had his being at risk on that cliff drawn her out? She said she watched over that cliff…kept people from jumping, "to keep grounded." Did she know who _he_ was?

Except now that he thought about it, what kind of spirit needs to be _grounded_? Jesus…he'd thought he'd been hallucinating. Fucking…hallucinating. She'd saved his ring…put it back into his pocket, but he'd been so wrecked mentally, he didn't even notice.

Mechanically, he reached for Cristal, holding on to her hand, suddenly afraid like a child. It wasn't Cristal specifically he needed. He'd have grabbed Mason's hand too, his turn to keep grounded because suddenly he remembered all too well making love to Michelle in that dark, fire-lit room and getting caught by Satan himself. He shifted in the seat, aware of very real pain in his gut…definitely not hallucinatory. It didn't take much for his body to recall the trauma.

That was the thing…his own body wouldn't let him forget—it betrayed him. And it led straight back to the drugs.

He breathed deeply like he was supposed to, thinking of what he'd tell Jed if he wanted to shoot up. Went through the whole list as to why it was so bad…so damaging.

He listened to the sedated chatter on the bus, listened to Douglas talk about the technicalities of chess…how when he was twelve, his "Da" threw his one and only chess set into a burning trash can…how he dug through the ashes looking for pieces that might have survived.

After a while Todd asked, "Tell me why bad stuff happens to people? Tell me why this all happened to us?"

"I don't know, Turtle. Bad luck, I s'ppose."

Michelle. Could it have been her? Could she _really_ have survived?

Granite House loomed ahead…a kind of hush coming over the bus. The closer they got, the clearer another aspect of Michelle's disappearing became. Something he never considered before. Didn't dare question it because he didn't need the grief. But…here it was. Couldn't avoid it now.

If she was alive…if that was her, why the hell didn't she ever come home to Jedediah? How could a mother do that? The way Bitsy had left him to Peter…flip-flopping down the hall…

 _Mama…don't go…I'm sorry…I didn't mean for you to see that._

Sinking below a water's edge…

… _but I gotta swim now…'cause I'm fucking amphibious._

 **To be continued…**


	16. Chapter 16

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 16**

Brandy had so many pretty things, now. A beautiful sparkly lamp and more than ten tiny porcelain angels she'd found in thrift stores, a silvery necklace from an estate sale Viki had taken her to, and clothes from a department store Viki had bought for her. Stylish jeans, little sweaters, silky blouses. A pair of delicate black flats. Plain, really, simple, making her look like lots of girls you see on the main streets. She even got her hair trimmed by a hair stylist, the cut shaping her long black hair and giving it a slight wave. She'd learned to blend in with the crowd. When with Viki, people took her for an assistant.

Her face, though, wasn't so regular. She had large brown-black eyes with short lashes. The whites reddened with emotion when she was driven to the brink – which didn't happen often. She had funky eyebrows because someone once got it into their head to shave hers and they'd grown back in…weird. One side had this jog upwards. Her olive-colored skin had a spray of additional burnished color on her cheeks, and she knew people thought she was older than her mid-twenties. Some people said she was pretty – she didn't see it. She wasn't anything to look at.

The purple velvet room belonged to her, that's what Viki said. _"For as long as you want, you can stay here."_

Brandy lay on the bed, face up, touching the soft fabric with the tips of her fingers back and forth, back and forth. She breathed the way Lucy, her counselor, had taught her. _Take deep cleansing breaths, Brandy…that's the way, yes…just like that._ She focused on the happy moments in her life. Really living in those moments were important to reaching that wished-for state of normality. She worked to "transfer the emotion of joy into the present."

Lifting her scratchy sweater, she rubbed her empty belly with her nails…back and forth and back and forth. For weeks she planned a new life for herself. Lucy had told her how hard it would be to have a baby all alone. She figured maybe she could work in a daycare or something like that. Lucy had thought it was a good idea…she said it was _plausible_. When Viki learned of the pregnancy, she promised to help. She said to Brandy, "You'll never be alone."

They didn't talk about it much but when they did, it was as if the baby belonged to Brandy and Brandy alone. As if the baby had no father.

Nightmares started up soon after the loss, bad ones. Todd dying, her dying, that Phillip dying. All of them stuck in the sewers. Over and over again, she saw the killing…saw herself as a little girl. Dreamed other stuff, too. Stuff from when she was young. While Viki said Brandy would never be alone…she felt she would be. The feeling of aloneness was stuck to her, like sap or tar or something even more permanent than that. A birthmark.

When the cop came to her and said they knew she did something to help Phillip "get dead," she felt even more alone. The night they first questioned her, she called Paulie right away, hoping he'd help rub away the lonely feeling somewhat.

He came and got her. She snuck out. He did his thing with her like always, in the back seat of his car, down the road. Afterwards, he said, "Let's get married, babe…"

She didn't tell him about the baby. Said instead, "No…I think things are kind of okay where they're at." He didn't get upset or nothin'…he shrugged it off.

"Sure, babe…it's nice seeing you and all. Cool that Manning's sister took you in. Real cool. You call me anytime."

When he dropped her off, he gave her sixty dollars. He didn't mean to…he just didn't know any better. THEY weren't any better. She felt real alone, then. Viki had answered the door and looked worried. Brandy couldn't hide what she'd been up to. Hard to lie to kind Mrs. Carpenter with hair done up in the finest gold scarf, a silky robe draping her full body, covering her with shiny, thin material showing luscious lilies and leaves wrapped around stalks of yellow bamboo. Her feet were in aqua colored slippers. Little pearls sewn on the top. Real doll-like.

Paulie drove off, leaving a trail of grey exhaust, stinking up the neighborhood. Viki asked if Brandy was okay because it wasn't like her to just disappear. Her eyes had gone to where Paulie had been, watching the drifty smoke left over from his old car. Brandy handed her the money, walked inside the house, and said, "I'm always gonna be a whore, you know. It ain't never gonna change. It's all people see."

Viki reached to her, to try to comfort her, to offer words, but Brandy just walked to her room and shut the door. Nothing for anyone to say that would ever fix her, heal her.

 _I ain't anything a'tall._

That was a week or so ago. She went to her classes like she was supposed to, to a reading class and a cooking class because she thought maybe she would be a cook in a fancy hotel someday. Met with Lucy like she was supposed to. Talked with her group like she was supposed to. Acted like she was supposed to. Last night, though, she stepped out again without Viki knowing it. Viki didn't want to go to the dinner with her friend, but Brandy smiled and said she was fine to go.

Soon as Viki left, she took a cab to Sixteenth and saw some of the girls who she used to hang with. They were happy to see her. Smiling, real joyous. They talked a little…acted jealous a little.

And that old cop came up to her, real glad to see her, too. So glad he took her to the alley…and she got to her knees and made him even more glad. Got forty and a stinging slap on her cheek when she accidentally used too much teeth. Tucked the money into her pocket and spent ten dollars getting back to Viki's place. Showered.

Cried and cried all night...wishing she hadn't done it. Missing her friend, her brother she'd grown to love. Todd had been so sweet when he heard of the baby. He called her. Talked quiet into the phone, saying he had to go away for awhile 'cause he'd fucked up. Said, "I'm sorry you lost it, Brandy…maybe there'll be another one for you one day."

"I wanted it to be yours, baby…"

He got all hushed at that, then said, "You know we can't make babies….we're poison, you know that…" She was sure he was crying about it. Crying over something. He whispered…so nobody could hear him, real low and quiet, "I never forget about you. Never. You're always with me…inside me."

This morning, she pretended to be sick. Stayed in bed. Viki was worried about her and told her she'd stay with her. Brandy said everything was fine, that she just had a flu or something.

"Go on to work," she insisted. "'Sides, your girl will be here, won't she?"

"No, Jessica's leaving for the weekend. I feel very uncomfortable…"

"I'll be fine…I'll see you at lunch. You're so nice to me."

She gave Brandy a squeeze of her shoulder and for a second, Brandy almost asked if she could go to the Banner office with Viki. Be like a little girl going to work with her mama. She didn't ask because she wasn't a little girl. She was a full-grown woman…who almost had a baby…who lost it…and who was nothing but a whore. Oh…she could cook now. Could read, too. Could read damn well.

D-A-M-N. Damn. Tricky word, that one.

Like a strange coincidence, as soon as Viki left, as soon as Brandy got to the kitchen to have raisin bran cereal with milk in a glossy bowl decorated with the bluest of oceans and the greenest of fish and the brightest yellow sun, Jack Neederman called on the phone, his voice coming off the answering machine into the kitchen.

"Brandy Night, are you there? Pick up if you are, I'd like to talk with you. It's important."

Scared…curious…Brandy picked up the phone. He said he had the evidence they needed, conclusive, and if she kept up her silent act they were going to punish her. She hung up before he could explain exactly what the punishment would be. Without finishing her breakfast, she looked all over the house for information on where Todd went. What place was it?

She opened drawers, read through bills and other important-looking papers. She flipped through notepads. Listened to the answering machine, to all the messages. Just as she was about to give up, she thought to turn on the computer in Viki's room. Pushed the button. The whole thing hummed to life. There was a clickie for an address book right there on the screen. She kept clicking just like they did in class.

Then…there was Todd's name.

She smiled and touched the letters. T-o-d-d. They were brother and sister from Hell and they saw into each other and knew just exactly what lived and slid through their veins. There was always a kind of relief when they were with each other. She knew it wasn't a good kind, felt good just the same. He'd know what to do maybe. With this Neederman.

There was a phone number. And an address. He was in West Virginia. A place called, Granite House.

G-r-a-n-i-t-e.

So now she was ready. Had a bag packed and waited for a cab to get her to the station. From there, she'd take a bus across the state line, over mountains, through a night. Might take a while to get to him. Todd would know what to do. He would. He'd be real happy, too, to see her. She was sure of it. Thought of how hard he'd hold her…thought of those wet eyes…those ones that would look at her like she was something more than a whore…and less than one…he'd look right into her and in his way, he'd assure her that she was a nothing _with_ value. Like him.

She remembered how he came to her when he was having a bad go of things, how'd he'd come for her. She meant something to _him_. She'd made him smile and he was able to get back home. She figured the reason he started using again was maybe because he hadn't come to her this last time.

A horn honked outside and she got up, grabbed her suitcase, and scrambled down the grand stairs of Llanfair. Looking around before she stepped outside, she hoped Viki would understand. She'd been so nice.

* * *

When Bo Buchanan reached his office, he learned Brandy had disappeared. He shook his head and grinned a bitter grin at the predictability of life. Neederman was beside himself. Ranting like a maniac. He had come to Bo, sweating, practically spitting his demand for cooperation to get Dr. Tim Graham to spill what he knew about Todd's whereabouts. The dream came back at that moment. Todd's strange request.

 _Don't drag their bodies through the streets. Don't hang 'em up in the center square. Cover my boy, Bo…cover him up._

Bo shook his head, the visions meaning so much. "I'm sorry," he said. "I won't ask the doctor to compromise his ethics. The case is problematic anyway. No court's going to ask Graham to crack his confidentiality. It isn't gonna happen."

"As a federal agent, I have gotten far tighter ethics rules laid aside," Neederman hissed.

"Well, then, be my guest. I am not doing it. Fact is, nothing on this case is gonna change in a week, a month, in two. The case won't grow any colder than it already is."

And that…was that. Bo would wait Todd out. He had his suspicions that the cooperation Neederman needed would come from Todd himself. On his own. He just needed…time.

* * *

"l'd live my entire life here," Téa sighed, looking across the mountainside, at the massive rocks interspersed with a spring's green growth, the sun's light brilliant against the whitish stone walls. A series of waterfalls lay not too far away, the water gushing noisily. She and Jed had hiked down through Bridesmoat and up to Hailey's Place, a fairly popular hiking destination. The views were breathtaking.

Jedediah stood next to her, wearing a small grin, "Me and my friends, Aaron and Blake, we came here a whole bunch. It was so cool…" He seemed lost in pleasant memory and Téa was grateful for it.

She teased him, "Your recall is suspiciously devoid of detail."

"It's best you don't know more."

She chuckled, "You and your secrets." Which made his smile fade. Téa put her hand on his shoulder, "Sometimes it's good to share them."

Big eyes stared back at her, "But what if they get people in more trouble?"

"How do you know they will?"

"I just know. The cops are hoping for it." He resumed his concentrated watch of space…of nature, of a world free of societal danger.

"Jed, have you forgotten that I'm a lawyer? I know a lot of stuff. You can tell me anything…everything."

He shook his head, briefly closing his eyes.

Over the days, he'd seemed to have withdrawn even further from Téa. She kept trying to talk to him, but he didn't want to. Not about anything. She tried to engage him, a board game, a movie…and he chose not to, burying himself writing in his notebooks or by hanging out near the creek. Each day that passed began to convince Téa she'd made a mistake in hiding him. Yet when she suggested they go back home…he positively panicked. Begged her not to do that, tearful practically. She just held him, promising… _no, no…we're not going back._

In an effort to get she and Jed closer, Téa bought a couple of binoculars in town along with several books on bird-watching. Jed had ragged on her, saying, "Bird-watching is for wimps."

Now he took his set of lenses from his backpack, while she took hers…the two of them on the watch for whatever sorts of birds they could find. They giggled over the fact that basically, well, all the birds looked the same.

Téa argued, "No…they're not the same at all. Some are very small, and others..."

"Others are only kind of small."

"Exactly…and look, there's one…it's not small at all."

It was nice, Téa thought, to hear him laugh again. She continued to search the higher rocky cliffs, the grey and blue blurs swooping among the treetops. Jedediah appeared to be doing the same. Except he was turned around and looking down the hill, towards the river.

"Hmm…"

"What?"

"A group's hiking up this way. We're not going to be alone for long."

"Ahhh…"

Téa turned around and peeked downwards, too. A curious gathering of about twenty was winding their way through the trees…in and out of their vision. Hats, backpacks, walking sticks, sunglasses…a group consisting of all sorts of colored skin, colored hair…and their voices bounced up towards Téa and Jed. Laughter, yelps…chattering.

When they reached the falls, some moved close to the river's edge, kicking at the water. Someone who appeared to be the leader of the group shuffled them away. A rather stocky guy threatened to throw her in, lifting the leader off her feet, the group laughing.

Téa smiled, "That looks fun."

Jed was really concentrating on the group. Quiet. He put the binoculars down, glancing over at Téa for a second.

"City-folk," he said.

"How can you tell?"

"Just can."

"Must be a nature group…maybe they're traveling."

He picked up the binoculars again, murmuring, "I don't think so."

The group appeared to have reached a resting point at the falls, the members milling in and around each other. Téa thought they seemed so…hard to put words on it… happy? Energetic? Curious? Focused, maybe. Relaxed, certainly.

One of the women had a white scarf around her hair, a plumpish sort of girl, African-American. She jumped on the back of one of the guys, who made like she was terribly heavy. Clearly an exaggerated act…he was teasing her. Then with a quick hop, he adjusted her on his back and they both walked a ways ahead.

There was something sweet about it…how strong he seemed to be, carrying her…sure-footed despite the burden. She pointed out some distant sight and he nodded. He put her down gently and then they stood together on a rock…just gazing at the view.

One member of the group pointed in Jed's and Téa's direction, then the entire group waved, even the other two. The plump girl and the strong man. Jed chuckled, saying something beneath his breath, while Téa waved back, getting a burst of hollers in response before they went back to their study of the area.

She turned to Jed who kept watching them…

"No wonder they're yelling, you're staring at them…so obvious, Jed."

"I know," he said softly. "It's…interesting. I don't know what to think."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing…nah. Never mind." He turned slightly, readjusting his view.

Téa couldn't figure him out. She then unpacked a blanket and spread it across the flat rock she and Jed occupied, getting him to join her, which he did. They drank water…explored more of the mountainside. Flipped through the book on local birds. She unpacked trail mix, which they both munched on. They compared notes…giggling again about their complete lack of bird-watching abilities.

Téa's eyes drifted back to the man with the woman in the scarf. He was now alone and had his hand up, shielding more of the sun…looking towards Téa. He paced for some moments…before peeking up at Téa again…everyone else had lost interest in them…except for him.

He didn't stand out from the crowd in any particular way, wearing basic blue denim jeans…looking to have brownish athletic shoes. He wore a navy-blue, unbuttoned collared shirt over a plain white tee-shirt. Wore lightly shaded sunglasses. Had short hair. He glanced downward, fiddling with something on his wrist…then he headed back to the rest of the group. In this lovely, carefree manner, he jumped over rocks, arms out to balance. There was something about him…but this guy seemed too social to be who she thought, not to mention how different he appeared from the man she knew. She didn't know the clothes, the shoes…the hair.

And yet… he made her smile.

The mountainside had been burned at some point, there being a grove of blackened trees. Right next to some, though, were newly planted trees…seedlings were coming up, tiny reflections of those lost. It was amazing how nature had a way of righting itself. A breeze blew by Téa and Jed…and a flock of birds flapped their wings madly while crying out, before they alit at a place they must have called home.

"Oh! I know that one," Jed said, "…wait…wait…"

"Where?"

"Right there…to your left."

Téa peered through the binoculars in the direction Jed described. "Oh," she said, dragging the exclamation out, "…it's some sort of…"

"Uh huh…"

"Page…can't quite remember but near the front page…"

"Right…a gray-breasted…"

Both Téa and Jed said at the same time, "Pigeon!"

"We don't know what the hell we're talking about do we?"

"Not at all."

They laughed, tossing the binoculars aside and lying down on the blanket. Closing their eyes to the sun. Jed was the one who broke the silence.

"So I guess he's still at Granite."

"This is a change for you. I wish I felt as confident as you sound." She lowered her voice, "I'm sure Granite would have contacted me had he left."

"He's finished six weeks…it's up isn't it?"

"Yes…today might be seven."

"We _can_ see him…up close and personal?"

"Do you want to?"

"Yesterday…I wanted to see him just to talk about, you know…this thing."

"And now?"

"Now I'm not sure if I'm ready to tell him about the situation, unless he already knows."

Téa turned to him, blocking the sun from her eyes. "Why's that?"

"It might screw up his program. I…think…he might be doing okay at it and I just hate to…ya'know, screw it up."

"I see."

"Are you going to tell him where we're staying?"

"Certainly…well…I don't know." She laughed sadly. "Confession time. When I was about five. I found a kitten wandering near our building. I wanted that kitten so bad…so I brought him inside our apartment. My dad absolutely rejected the idea of pets…I didn't know it at the time, but we couldn't have spared the little money we had for cat litter, food, shots…whatever else a cat would need." Téa reached for Jed, lightly touching his hair, which was growing out quite a bit.

"Anyway, what I remember most was how it meowed for something to drink or eat. I wanted to give it milk because that's what I'd seen in books. Papi wouldn't let me…he said, 'Don't feed it because it will think this is his home and he'll always come back hoping for that milk. Don't feed it and he'll forget where we live.' My dad took it away…never saw the cat again. I figured it was like my father said, the cat hadn't been given any reason to come back."

"And the moral of the story is…?" Just as Téa was about to answer, they both heard the noise of someone approaching them. The sound of boots on the rocks…

Téa answered, "I suppose I don't want Todd to know where we are because it might give him a reason to leave Granite sooner than he would otherwise. Like that cat."

A familiar voice which didn't belong to Jed responded to her.

"How do you know that…for sure?"

Téa and Jed kind of froze because the voice was too confident, too kind, too grounded. They'd been so disappointed already.

Téa was the first to give in, sitting up slowly and taking him in. As if taking a drink of fresh water, the realization that he was the one she'd been watching down there cooled her insides, her fevered worries. The difference in him was astounding – and made her unable to control her smile – he'd cut his hair so short, it wasn't messy and tangled…and he'd gained weight back, he wasn't gaunt-looking anymore…and he had a perfectly trimmed goatee, not wild and uncared-for…and his skin was creamy and smooth. Above all, though, he was smiling sweetly back at her with love-filled eyes, not with the empty, soulless ones which peered at her so often in her dreams.

He looked, to her, _beautiful._

"Surprised to see me?" He glanced over at Jed, who finally sat up, too. Who managed to smile at him…only a little though. It had faded quickly…like always.

"Oh my god…," was all Téa could say, getting to her feet. Carefully he approached her, his eyes moving from hers to her lips, down to her all-too-new hiking boots, back up along her form-fitting jeans. Up again over her plaid blouse which she wore over a thin yellow cotton shirt…right up to her face again. For the moment, her thoughts about the future vanished…because all that counted was right now. Seeing him like this…she could live in this moment forever, she thought.

He asked, "Can I hug you? I've missed you so much."

Téa nodded and he put her arms around her, holding her to him, as tightly as she held him, their bodies tight against one another. She wanted him this way…for as long as she could. God, she needed the man he'd once been to her…she needed him to help Jed, she wanted him to be… _everything_. He looked sort of like someone who could be, felt that way with how securely he held her.

They lingered in their warming embrace… "You feel so good," he whispered. Peering at Jed, he then kissed Téa's shoulder and tenderly let her go. Jed was different, too…and not in a good way. It wasn't so much physically that he'd changed…no, he was still the same lanky teenager, wearing baggy jeans, a tee-shirt under a jacket…his face clean-shaven beneath a brownish mop. The change had been inside…and it showed in his hazel eyes.

Yeah, it was fear that had settled deep into those irises, thick, tarry blasts of _fear_ as palpable as another color in addition to the green and brown. Todd wasn't sure if it was new…or simply that he'd never noticed it. Maybe he'd been too fucked-up to _see_ the truth of this boy. He rubbed his chest, because the latter was likely and he hated the idea, the fact of it.

"Can I have a hug from you, too?" he asked tentatively. Téa looked away because she knew what Jed's answer would be. She saw several members of Todd's group looking up at them. She couldn't see their expressions. As she expected, Jed said, no.

"It's okay, Jed…you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Those words in particular weighed heavy on Jed. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he asked, "Who was that chick hanging all over you? Is she another Brandy?"

Téa sighed, reaching for Todd's hand and feeling the sweat there. The hurt came not because Jed shouldn't have said anything, but rather because she was sorry illusions could be so easily shattered. Wished she'd had just a little more time in a world where the three of them could just be a little family out and about…wished Jed could feel such a thing.

Todd flashed Téa an expression she couldn't decipher. Not sure if it was guilt or a plea for help. She let go him and he then touched the beads and the ring…a new habit, one probably associated with thorny contemplation. The placement of his wedding ring didn't escape Téa's notice. She was curious, knowing the switch wasn't done lightly or casually.

"Her name is Sherry," Todd explained, as he glanced down at the Granite crowd, catching Busy gazing up at him…keeping an eye on his reunion. The quilt of a group was spread out along the rocks, everyone eating a lunch which Todd had chosen to skip so he could see Téa and Jed up close. He had recognized them even from the distance they were at. He figure he'd recognize them still if he were blind, deaf, from a million miles away.

"We're friends," he said. "Been through similar things…you know? Everyone down there has been through something. We're trying hard…just to be 'okay.' I think we end up hangin' all over each other at some point or another. Not always playing either." He paused, studying the horizon a moment. "I'm sorry, Jed, Téa, for everything. There's so much I wish I could take back."

Jed's anger seemed to lessen…and he fingered the book in his hand. "You're being nice to everybody?"

"Trying to be…not always. We all go up and down like that."

Quietly, Jed asked, "Are you being nice to yourself?" He had the saddest expression on his face and Todd smiled slightly, empathetically, confirming to himself he hadn't been "seeing" Jed…doubting he ever did in all the time he knew him.

"Yeah," he said, keeping his own sadness out of his voice. Shutting it down. "I'm working on being nicer to myself, definitely…and I'm hoping you'll feel that, too. Get the effects of it. I don't want to hurt you anymore, Jed." He looked down at the ground a second, then focused solidly on Jed, keeping his voice firm…steady. "I want you to feel safe. With me."

"Right…" Jed was about to say something argumentative, except he stopped himself.

"Hey, you have no reason to believe in what I say…and I'm okay with that…more than okay. So, it's gonna take time to prove myself to you. For you to feel safe. Both of you. And if you never do…well, that's my problem. I have to live with that."

Neither Jed nor Téa spoke because what could they say? He nodded, done with his speech…which hadn't quite come out like he'd been planning, and kneeled down, picking up Téa's binoculars. Peeked through them, asking, "So what birds _have_ you seen?"

Téa joined him on the rock, sitting down. "What kind of birds do you see?"

"Besides the unique ones on this rock…mmm…a lot of goddamn pigeons."

Téa laughed, "You're a natural!"

"Yeah…"

Jed plopped back down, too, munching on the trail mix. He offered Todd some, who smiled at Jed and took a handful.

"Thank you," he said, looking at Jed.

The three of them compared notes for a while on the birds they were managing to make out…determining they were terrible at actually identifying the distinctions.

Busy soon came up to them, saying the group was heading back to Granite House, but that since Todd hadn't seen his family even though he was well past his earned rights to, he could spend time with Téa and Jed if he was sure to get back to the facility by nightfall.

"I can have the rest of the day with them?"

"Yeah, Turtle…yes, you can."

"Good…okay," he said, then becoming suddenly conscious he hadn't checked with Téa and Jed. Maybe they weren't ready for it. His face fell a bit and he took a breath about to tell them it was okay to take a rain check. It was written all over him.

Jed saved him, though. "Hey, Téa, we can heat up that roasted chicken you got yesterday. It wasn't bad at all."

"Yes, definitely. Dinner's going to be… _nice._ "

Todd nodded, relieved, and got up to walk a ways with Busy. She smiled openly at him, looking like a proud mama, "Aren't you a blessed one? You be sure to have the freest of afternoons…you definitely earned it, sweetie."

"I did, huh?"

"Oh yes. Yes, you did."

With that he turned on his heels, and smiled big, not able to help himself, not giving a damn about whatever rules Téa was breaking…whatever laws…he had two of the most unique, beautiful birds with him…what more could he have asked?

 **To be continued….**


	17. Chapter 17

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 17**

It was a surreal scene – a weird, normal, relieving thing, this hike. Three people in the hills, two parental sorts and a kid, trudging along as if they did this all the time, as if their lives _weren't_ totally and utterly … twisted. Téa found a smooth, thick branch that came to her chest and had a perfect hook for her hand so she could use it as a solid walking stick.

"Providence," she'd said.

Her steps were sure as she listened to Todd's slightly nervous chatter, nodding often in understanding, in acknowledgment. Again, relating like they did this all the time. Todd walked equally as sure, no walking stick, but he had Jed and Téa for support. He had a bounce in his stride, being nearly giddy, and laughed easily to her quips. He often reached out and brushed his fingertips on the drippy leaves of the brush, an unconscious, carefree act.

Jed dragged behind them, following them. Buried in his observation.

The shortcut was supposed to lead straight to Bridesmoat and the cabin from the Falls. They'd have a little more time this way, more time to sit around and just… _be_. Jedediah tried to get Téa's attention a couple of times to ask whether she was really okay with telling Todd where they were, to no avail. There was no place in these woods for a quiet word with her behind Todd's back.

Eh…he didn't mind…figuring it didn't matter much in the end. If the guy was going to take off from Granite to get back on the train to hell, it probably wouldn't be to the cabin anyway. He'd ride right past it…get to a city. Jed glanced up ahead of him, listening to Todd tell Téa about one of the guys there from New York. They talked kind of raggedly…the hike not being an easy one.

"I thought…maybe he knew Del. I asked him…he said the name sounded familiar, thinks maybe they were in training together."

Téa shook her head, "That's some coincidence. Sad statement on police work – I'll never know how Del does it, and he's in homicide now."

"Yeah…um…how _is_ Del?" Todd threw her a side glance, recalling his one-time, hugely wrong assumption about Del's identity. A bad time, as if there had been good times. _As if._ Instinctively, her reached for Téa in an unspoken apology. The hike didn't let him follow through on the touch.

"Del…Del…he's…not bad. Still doing the cop thing…still perplexed by me. By my choices in life. He's one to talk." A soft chuckle.

"Guess if he wasn't those things, Del…wouldn't be Del. Right?"

"I suppose so."

Todd kept looking at Téa, at everything about her. The way she moved, the way she studied her surroundings, the way she got serious when he did and lightened up at his attempts at humor. He looked for her wedding ring and saw it was gone. Okay, okay … makes sense. No surprise. _No matter._ Every time he'd look in her direction, he'd get this beaming smile on his face, the impulse coming from someplace that had been so dark for such a long time. The feel of it reminded him of light shining on an old chest that had been stuffed away in an attic someplace – and there were treasures in the box. You'd open it up, having set it perfectly under a window – and _whaaaat_ … look at that. Fuckin' rubies.

He'd get shy of his reaction, though, and try to concentrate on the walk. So much damage had been done, maybe it was irreparable. Maybe their put-away rings…were put away forever.

Jed caught one of those grins of Todd's and it felt good to see…for Téa's sake. For today. He tried not to think about the next thing Todd would do to hurt her. It was hard to let go of that repeating thought. But he couldn't help it. He was so sure Todd was going to do it again. Despite the fantasy of wanting Jed and Téa to feel safe with him, it just wasn't likely. But…thinking those thoughts didn't help things. Although…other thoughts took their place once he quieted the first set. Made him not want to talk much.

"How's the food?" Téa asked.

"Eh…it's okay. It's like… really healthy. I miss the stuff _we_ like – Jed's fave dinner…bad pizza and extra-caffeinated soda." Todd turned and flashed a small grin at Jed before taking a small leap over some errant shrubbery.

"Ha ha ha," Jed joked lightly. "It's not just soda…it's SuperSoda."

"That's the one – Granite hates super- _anything_."

Jed couldn't quite tell what Todd thought of _him_. He knew Todd liked hanging out this way, except something other than happiness colored his face when he'd glance at Jed. Sometimes he'd smile…other times he'd linger. Culpability made Jed think Todd knew what was happening with Phillip. The watchful gaze almost seemed like he was waiting for the truth to come vomiting out. Jed didn't talk about it, didn't say anything because he didn't trust Todd _wouldn't_ freak out…wouldn't pack up his things and run like hell. Leave Jed all alone with this shit and fuck everything up again.

Sure, Todd looked like he'd been through something all right, the change showing up in his physical appearance. Sure, he _looked_ clean…free of drugs... he looked healthy. Acted it. Sounded it. For the moment, Todd's problems seemed in check. Balanced. Jed focused on Todd's shoes, each one taking a step at a time along the rocky trail. One step at a time – a real live fucking metaphor.

 _A-plus, Mr. Chant. You should teach literature._

Todd turned once more to look at Jed, walking backwards. Narrowing his eyes. Jed ducked down, avoiding the examination. Poked at a hole in the side seam his jeans.

"Talk to me more," Todd said.

"Not much to say."

"You've gotten taller."

"It's only been a month and a half since you've seen me."

"Actually a lot longer than that."

"Okay…seven weeks."

"That's better. You…get any piercings I can't see?"

Jed snorted, "If you can't see it, then maybe I don't feel like sharing it."

"You're bad…but I can tell you're pierce-free."

"How can you tell?"

"Because you're walking perfectly normal and you're speaking without a _lithp._ " Todd laughed and so did Jed, despite his not wanting to. Todd then turned around, and continued to walk, stealing glances at Téa all the while. He pushed more on the Jed front.

"Tell me about your friends…you still shooting hoops with Dylan?"

"Kind of…" Jed hesitated, then spit out the unfortunate truth fast. "He-got-sent-back-to-Juvie."

Téa had no idea of it, stopping in her tracks, "Oh no, Jed, why?"

Jedediah sighed. "Just found out about it…Summer told me. Got sent back…truancy and pick-pocketing at the track."

"The _track_?" Téa and Todd both said it together.

"Jinx," Todd said.

"Oh stop it…we're adults."

"Double-jinx."

Jedediah chuckled…really, really not wanting to. He didn't want nice feelings while around Todd. Just didn't. He'd only get damaged. He'd want them to be permanent and he'd be pissed when their inevitable temporariness would be confirmed.

Téa smacked Todd on the arm, snickering, "That's not how it works and no, I'm not going to stop talking."

"Lord knows that's true." He grinned at her, wrinkling his nose. Wishing he could nuzzle her. Made him a little weak in the knees.

 _Where's your wedding ring, Delgado? Where are you hiding it?_

Turning back to Jed, he asked, "So…what track?"

"Dogs."

"You ever go there?"

Jed shrugged… "Maybe once. Twice. Hey…don't look at me like that…Téa knows about it."

Téa pointed out some birds, her voice taking on a higher pitch… "Look…I do not think those are pigeons. I think they're reddish."

"Don't change the subject…you actually let him go to the track? Kind of mother are you?"

"He was with Dylan. I THOUGHT Dylan was a nice boy. They were with Dylan's parents. Clearly…Dylan leads a lifestyle radically different from his parents. They're both judges."

"What kind of judges?"

"Family law court."

"Oh…well, that should have told you all you needed to know. They're criminals. Pick-pockets of the worst sort."

"Jinx."

"Okay…you so don't know the rules either." Todd directed his attention to Jedediah again. "You're not to go to the track anymore, young man…especially with that Dylan. Unless you got really good odds and cut me in on the deal."

Jedediah smiled. "Deal."

"Yeah," Todd answered, balling his fingers into a fist to tap Jed's own. Too playful for Jed's mood. Didn't want it. But he did it anyway.

"How's Summer?" Todd then asked.

"She's all right. This time away, though…I don't know. She might find someone else." His eyes dropped as he shoved his hands into his jeans' pockets. "Doesn't matter."

Téa assured him, sounding like a mother, "Jed…if she loves you, she'll wait."

"She might not like a snitch, though." The words had flown out…and he slapped a hand over his mouth, Téa's eyes widening in surprise. He let his hand fall because Todd seemed to not have heard. They'd reached a steep incline requiring a serious dose of concentration to traverse. Téa and Jed watched the path Todd took and when he got to the top, he put his hands out in accomplishment, saying softly, "Ta-da!"

Then he got serious, stepping down part way, reaching for Téa, saying in that same gentle voice, "Take my hand." Something lurked in his eyes, though. His mood had changed. The deeper meaning of his action was obvious.

In return, Téa hesitated. It was so silly…they were only hiking. This wasn't a life or death situation. There shouldn't be any more meaning to it than just a help to get up a slope – but she knew different, they all did. Tears formed in her eyes and she dropped her head hoping nobody would see. No such luck though.

Straightening up, Todd nodded, then sat on a flat rock alongside the path. Up the rocky incline. "I was kidding myself, huh?"

Téa was too choked up to answer, Jed intervening. "Kidding about what?"

"That you guys were as happy to see me as I was you."

Jed snapped, the truth inside of him impossible to hold in for one more second. "The fuck did you expect? For us to jump up and down like puppies? You kicked us in the teeth, too many times to count."

Todd picked a twig and broke it into bits, tossing the remnants away angrily. Readjusted himself on the rock. "I know...you don't have to tell me that. I missed you is all. Just…missed you. Wanted to see you. I didn't think you'd send up fireworks–I just thought–maybe…" He sighed heavily, knocking his head back, looking upwards into the trees. Into the hills. "I don't know what I thought." Quiet hung in the air, quiet that was loud and grating. "I guess I want the easy fix."

"Interesting choice of words."

Todd pointed his finger at Jed, making a symbol like a gun, winking…saying sharply, "Touché."

"Don't mix your metaphors," Jed said, making a motion like he had a sword.

Téa found her voice, "I'm sorry…Todd…don't misunderstand, I'm so happy to see you. I wanted to jump and down. Jed and I…it's not been easy with you…without you…all around. I know you want the easy fix, you always have. Never wanted to sit and let others stew in their being upset with you."

"I know," Todd said, his tone still icy. Tossed some more twigs, furious shots. Took the sunglasses off the top of his head and fiddled with them. Put them back, fiddled with the bracelet. The ring. Especially the ring. He shook his head and looked through the trees, squinted as though something important required his attention. He patted his pockets and then cursed under his breath.

"Forgot the cigarettes. God damn it."

Jed had kicked back against another rock. Took some sips of the water he carried. Téa took her water and leaned back against yet another rock. Again, the quiet rushed about, filling the space. Each of them thinking…if only they could slip beneath the surface…if only to embrace the hurts and go on from there. Swim away.

 _God damn it._

Todd's voice intruded…to ask the glaring question Téa and Jed had been avoiding, the question he'd been avoiding. No point in putting off reality since it had come crashing in anyway.

"Alright, tell me what laws you're breaking…tell me why you're here since it's obviously not to see me. Show me the … pink … gorilla … in the kitchen."

Jed answered immediately, coldly, saying, "No, and that's a screaming yellow zebra on the porch." He got up and started climbing, stirring Todd to get to his feet. Téa moved, too. Offered her hand to Todd, saying, "Help me up and maybe then we can talk about the white elephant."

The humor wasn't working.

"You sure you want your hand on mine? Cooties and jinxes…and all that _rot_." He spoke through gritted teeth, indignant, even though Téa and Jed were justified. He knew that. Except, like he said, he wanted the easy fix. Wanted to get back to regular life. A shot of Briggs flashed in front of him and he made a commitment to work on an article he'd promised as soon as he got back to Granite.

"Shut up, Manning, and give me a hand."

He smiled thinly as he helped Téa maneuver the tricky climb. Once they were on the trail again, he considered the narrower issue as to why they couldn't tell him why they were here, or why they bothered to let him into their afternoon…except when he focused too hard on it, he threw himself into a pool of not wanting to know the truth of things. 'Cause for Téa to shuttle Jed away – it had to be damn serious. His fears awakened…a fear this was about Phillip…

...a fear about Jed being a _snitch_.

Oh he'd heard him all right. Yeah, thinking on it again, he didn't want to know why Tea and Jed were running. Breaking laws.

Their walk continued, Jed getting agreeable again and answering Todd's questions about school, about Juvie. Deliberate topic switches.

"They didn't keep you long, right?"

"Nah…just overnight. It was okay. I was home pretty early. Got to see Summer the next day."

"I know you miss her…things okay with her otherwise?"

"Now? Non-existent."

"Because of being here…or more? Really, I want to know."

"Just 'cause we're here."

"Okay…she's a nice girl."

"Like you'd even know." Jed chuckled when he said it, knowing he'd stung Todd good. He didn't know why he'd done it. Maybe habit. Maybe he was just pissed off. _Still_. Maybe he couldn't get around to cutting Todd a fucking break.

Todd answered softly, "Summer seemed nice to me, the times I met her. She was nice to me when I was kicking methadone – didn't have to be." He'd not actually ever had a full conversation with her. Jed always shunted her in and out of the Penthouse…from his bedroom to the roof…to a movie, to her house. In hindsight, he realized Summer came from a pretty rough background to have handled Todd's kicking so… _lightly_. She obviously never told Jed what Todd had asked of her… sort of asked. He shuddered internally with shame all over again. She was more than a rebellious image – she probably had a whole lot of reason to rebel. Figured Jed would be in love with her.

Téa had shaken her head at Jed, a gentle chastising. Not judgment. Just a push to take it easy. He rolled his eyes and shrugged a reluctant agreement, making no firm promises. Then, clearly beyond his willing control, he said, "She thinks you're nice, too, when you're not throwing up and half-unconscious or punching walls to avoid hitting me."

"Jed…enough," Téa said aloud. "Not today, _mijo_. Please?"

He huffed, "I'm sorry, okay, but… you might look good, _Daddy_ …but it's all right there. I just know it." Jed bent, picked up a rock and pitched it to the side, into the brush.

Todd stopped walking and ran a hand through his hair, an unsatisfying move with the short cut he had. Nothing to grab.

"Be mad," he said, "real mad. You wanna hit me? Go ahead. I'm right here. You did it once, you can do it again."

Oh….god… Téa sighed heavily, the way Todd had lowered his voice and hissed the words. The tension so easily came to life. She wished she had bought the book on how to manage this. She had no doubts the two could end up in a wrestling match. They were both…so…volatile. She chose to just let this play out a moment or two.

"Like it's gonna change things?!" Jed snapped back.

"I don't know what the hell I'm saying." It seemed all his work at Granite was for naught and he found himself on the verge of fucking tears…like no matter what he did, he made himself a villain and he'd always be one to those around him. Because…he was going to always have a risk of relapse, of causing damage. There was no way that would ever be gone.

He turned away and wiped at his face, rubbing it with his hands. He thought of the tadpoles–he remembered it was okay to think things through, to swim in negative thought for a bit–because he'd just swim right out of there into warmer waters. It's okay, he said to himself, it's…okay. This is going to take time. A lot…of time. If you hit something, and it bruised, the wound doesn't just disappear when the assault ends. It takes time to heal. He'd caused a lot of bruises. Cuts. Burns.

His voice softened. "I said I wanted you to feel safe with me but I'm not going to lie to myself and think it's possible just because we go on a walk. So be mad, Jed … Téa. You have every right to be real damn mad." He smiled sort of crookedly, shrugging, "I wish things could be different. I'm sorry they're not. All I can say is, if you get mad, right now…I'm not gonna run and shoot up or something. I'm not feeling sorry for myself in case you're wondering."

"Not even a little?" Téa asked.

"Well, maybe a little."

The three didn't say anymore, continuing their walk in a sad kind of quiet. They drifted in their own thoughts. Téa watched Todd, sorry, so sorry they couldn't live more in the fantasy of perfection, of smoothed out kinks. She didn't dismiss Todd's effort, though. She noticed his eyeing of the blue, cloud-dotted sky, his watching a squirrel tackle a nut, his silent, subtle chuckle at it. There indeed was a sense of peace with him. Despite the bringing up of hurts, the welling of old aches, he didn't sink into it.

She lightly touched his arm, smiling to herself.

She broke the quiet after a bit, and asked Todd more about Granite, asked about the other people there. Todd shrugged and smiled a little. He told them about wiry Mason, the book-wormy Jonah…and straight-laced Douglas. Told of Douglas's being raised in England, about the way he talked, his crazy Cockney slang that was so nonsensical it would have everyone in stitches.

"It's a rhyming thing, like 'apples and pears' for 'stairs' – so he calls the main stairs, 'apples.' And… 'rabbit' for 'talk' because the way he says it, 'talk' rhymes with 'rabbit and pork.' Don't ask…we get to laughing so hard it hurts. It's so weird." He grinned, obviously feeling a surge of joy at the memory.

Then he told how Gregory had become an inspiration to him, and how tough it was to see someone like him struggle, to be afraid.

"You think this guy could do anything…the way he talks, how well he gets the rehab thing. He's big, a little like Tim – he's kind, and considerate. Smart, too, doesn't let anyone get away with any bullshit. Yet…he's damn scared to live away from Granite. He'll be gone in a month…goes back to Brooklyn…goes back to being a mechanic in his uncle's shop."

He'd already talked about Sherry. He didn't know exactly why, but he left out Cristal. Guilt maybe. Which was why he threw her in after a bit which sounded awkward, made him paranoid about hurting Téa, because it wasn't anything purposeful or it was and it was complicated and … seriously fucked-up.

"She's from around here…has a couple of kids that got taken away 'cause of the drugs."

"Was she part of the hiking group today?" Téa asked. She looked so innocent. Light filtering through the trees glanced off her hair in a shiny glimmer. He wanted to touch her. Hold her. Promise her things. Love her.

"Um…yeah…she was there."

He looked away, not able to control the guilty behavior, the tone in his voice. It was unstoppable. He wished Jed wasn't around at the moment, wishing he could talk to Téa, to be honest. No damn way would he, however. He really wished he understood more about himself. Being with Téa... seeing her in person…well, he realized he needed to talk to someone about this "thing" he was going through. He definitely had developed a problem with sex, a strange willingness to _engage_ since the heroin _..._

He'd never done that sort of thing before, never so willingly, knowingly. It wasn't _him._ He glanced his closed fist against Téa's arm, being playful, even though playfulness was the furthest thing on his mind.

 _Work, work, work._

"Why are you looking so sad?" Téa asked.

He shrugged, "Nothing…I don't want to talk about Granite anymore, I guess."

Téa wanted to ask about the ring…except it wasn't a conversation to have here…to have with Jed around. She looked at Todd, Jedediah being a few feet ahead of them for the moment. She'd put her ring away. Stopped wearing it a few weeks back. She'd taken off in the kitchen one afternoon when she'd gotten it into her head to make a meatloaf for Jed. Feeling maternal, she supposed. She'd bought the ingredients and one step called for mixing an egg into the ground beef and so she took off her ring. Put it carefully on the countertop in the kitchen of the Penthouse. She'd kept her eye on it throughout the cooking.

And…promptly forgot about it.

Left it for days sitting there, always coming up with an excuse for not wearing it. Needing to put lotion on her hands, going to court and not wanting to look too flashy, the diamonds didn't match the jeans, having lunch with Kyle, etcetera, etcetera. At the moment, the ring was tucked safely in her make-up bag, in a side pocket, that sat safely in a suitcase in a closet at the cabin.

Caressing Todd's cheek with her ring-free hand, she said, "I'm glad you have friends. I worried for you being alone."

 _Let's be unfaithful bitches._

 _What you talkin' about? We're damn faithful to heroin._

"I love you," he said. "I have a lot of work to do before…"

She shook her head and put her fingers to his lips, "Shhh. Let's try to enjoy our time. Let's play pretend, huh?"

He lifted his hand and touched her fingers still pressed against his lips. The turmoil swirled in his head, showed itself in his eyes. He knew what he revealed because Téa raised her other hand and cupped his cheek. Looked at him with a seemingly endless amount of compassion he didn't feel deserving of. Those eyes she offered him sent a shiver through him. He wondered why he could do damage to her… _ever_. All those times over the years. Countless times. Yes, she had her moments, yes, she pissed him off at times. Except, how could he forget those eyes? How could he be so fucking faithless to her love which was cutting through him right now?

 _Right…now._

He didn't understand. Their last night at the Penthouse came barreling forth. God, he could feel everything that day, her love, her hatred, her own madness. Their own mutual crazy. Why was it so hard to recreate it in his head when he was apart from her, rolling in his hurt, in pain, or…even when he was kind of…okay? Why couldn't he transfer it from one moment to another?

A conspiracy. _Peter._ A trick. Yeah, a trick, a spell. That's what it was, a spell to make him forget. He wanted to cry. He wanted to love her…freely.

A weakness fired up his spine and burst behind his eyes in a spray of wordless desire. All he could do was mumble, "Jesus," and lean forward to kiss her lips harder than he meant to. Téa didn't exactly welcome the kiss, being too surprised, not being ready for him at that second. She stepped back, smiling softly, shaking her head. Her brown hair had fallen into her glistening eyes and she swiped the locks away.

"Sorry," he said weakly, wiping at his face again. Feeling a little of his hard-earned stability slipping. "I'm sorry."

Téa laughed in a sort of embarrassed manner, grabbing his hand in an effort to appease his apology, and the sound pinged against the trees and must have hit Jed on the head because he bounded back to them from his exploration of the trail ahead. He looked a little …

"We're lost."

Flustered, Téa and Todd both turned and said, "What?"

"Jinx," Téa quipped, folding her arms and eying Todd smartly, warmly. She was trying so hard with him. So hard to make things easier for all of them.

Todd gifted her with a return lightness, making a motion of zipping his mouth shut, wagging his brows to show he knew the rules to the game. Jedediah looked at both of them and said again, with more passion, "Hello! We're lost, I'm not playing games here."

"Okay, okay," Todd said to Téa's chuckles. She kneeled down, taking off the small backpack she carried and pulled out a new-looking trail map. Jedediah and Todd both kneeled, too, and after some minutes of determination, Todd hissed, "Uh ohhhh…"

"Shit," Téa said. "This doesn't look anything like… _this_." She pointed to a brown line on the map that led away from the Falls. "Hmmm…. where did we stray?" They stood and the three walked around some minutes…trying to get oriented with the sun. Trying to figure out their direction in relation to their intended goal.

"Let's just walk this way," Todd said. "I'm sure it'll lead us… _somewhere_. At least we're heading down the mountain. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"I don't know, we might end up on the wrong side of the valley, way away from the cabin," Téa said. "Not to mention I'm getting hungry. And I don't have any money. Do you?"

"Oh my god, I left my credit card in my room! We're all gonna die!" Todd fell to the ground in an exaggerated motion and ended up giggling. Obviously a joke for himself being that Jed and Téa merely watched. He slowed his laughs and said, "Well…two _real_ problems I see."

"What?" Téa asked ominously.

"One, I'll miss my medications. Two, if I miss them, I'll become…a werewolf."

"Todd, you're a _freak_. You realize that, don't you?"

"Now, Jed, be nice," Tea said teasingly. She walked over to Todd and gave his shoulder a tender squeeze, pouting her lips, "He's a cute freak."

"I feel outnumbered here. I'm not that freakish. Doesn't everyone depend on some sort of meds to avoid turning into a werewolf?"

Téa sighed, "We better get walking. I don't want to have to deal with a heaving, hairy, saliva-dripping, tooth-showing monster."

"Yeah, 'cause I don't have any silver bullets to _shoot_ him with."

Téa chuckled, covering up her nervousness. They were really, truly…lost.

Some time passed, the walk quiet and meditative. The view was gorgeous although unfamiliar. There wasn't a creek anymore, there was a different sort of tree lining their path indicating they were in a different valley than they'd started out in, and the birds, well, they'd quieted their music. The afternoon started to wane and Todd plopped down on a rock.

"I'm tired. We're really lost, aren't we?"

"Yup," Jed murmured, sitting next to Todd.

Téa put her hands on her hips, "What do we do now?"

"Take inventory," Todd said. "How much food do we have?"

Both Jed and Téa examined their backpacks and listed their goods. "Water, not much, a half-eaten sandwich."

"A bag of trail mix and some water, mostly drained by Todd. Selfish water-drinker."

"Sorry, kid."

A communal hush fell over the group and Todd pointed his finger at Jed, "Now…wait. Wasn't this YOUR stomping ground?"

"Yeah."

"So how come you can't figure out where the hell we are?"

"Well … I don't know! I was walking along and…god, all the trees look the same and so do the birds and with all your 'let's talk about my friends, no, never mind, let's talk about the bad stuff Jed is doing better,' I got distracted! Not to mention…I was stoned most of the time I was up here." He flashed a guilty look at Téa and Todd.

Todd nodded, "Good reasons. Let this be a lesson." He started biting his nails. Added, "Isn't this poetic?"

"Explain, Manning," Téa chimed, her face now openly showing her worry.

"We're lost. It's an analogy to our search for our true selves in the forest of life."

Téa burst into laughter and Todd smiled, watching her as she tilted her head back and brought her arms into herself happily. He loved her, meaningless as such sentiment could be to him at times.

"Oh _amor_ , you're too much. Granite has turned you."

Jedediah felt compelled to complete the picture, only with a gloomier outlook. "He's right though, and we're all going to die out here in the forest of life, having never found our true selves and it will be a moral lesson in the end, that people should always get things in order before hiking into unfamiliar territory."

"And pack a good dinner and thick jackets." She got a concerned look once more on her face, the joke to all of this fading. "I'm getting seriously worried here, guys."

Just as Todd was about to offer more sage advice, the sounds of weaponry readying itself clicked around them, from behind trees, from behind the boulders.

 _Guns._

Todd froze, Téa moving closer to him, Jed eying the new company.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

A smoky, gravelly voice accompanied heavy footsteps across the dirt path. A beefy man with a long, black beard grinned, silver caps on his front teeth glinting from behind an equally thick moustache. He had a nice-looking AK-47 in his hands, aimed straight at Todd's face. The guy smelled like he hadn't bathed in a while and neither had his eight, equally armed friends emerging from their hiding places. Their faces were blackened with mud.

War games? Maybe the guns were…fake…maybe?

Todd smiled, putting his hands up, "Hey, guys…we wandered off the trail. Lost sight of those little signs saying, 'this way home.' Sure it's happened to you…once…maybe?"

"We don't like strangers," Blackbeard growled.

"Neither do we. Maybe you can direct us…you know…back to Bridesmoat? You know where that town is?"

Téa was about to talk, but Todd grabbed her, squeezing her arm firmly. Telling her to stay quiet.

Blackbeard scrutinized Todd, then Jed, then Téa. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Just visitors, man, from the Philly area. Seriously lost."

Todd had to tilt back his head when Blackbeard's rifle barrel poked at his Adam's apple. "Come on, man," he said softly. "We're not doing anything but hiking. Did we wander into your camp?"

The guy made a clicking sound with his teeth. "Yeah…you wandered wrong. Real wrong."

"Point us in the right direction then and we'll scramble outta here. What do you say, huh?"

"Nah...too risky," the guy hissed. "You're comin' with us. Start hikin'." When nobody jumped, he growled, "All a'you move or I'll blow your heads off. One…clean…sweep." His buddies all chuckled.

Todd closed his eyes, felt himself getting angry, thinking on what to do, trying not to panic. He eyed Téa who _was_ panicking, her eyes showing her very real fear. He could feel her trembling even though he stood inches away from her. Jed was looking at the gun, biting his lip. A fine sheen had broken out on his forehead, his hair sticking there.

"We're just…visitors," Todd repeated.

"And _I_ said…start…hikin'."

There was some choice, here. Todd could jump the guy outright but the clan might actually kill him, leaving Téa and Jed on their own for god-knows-what. He considered going peacefully but he figured once they reached their destination, they'd probably be promptly killed.

So…the only choice was for Todd to GET the AK-47 in his own hands. He nodded to Téa and Jed. One clean sweep of the mountain freaks. Yeah.

"Let's go with them, _honey_ , _son_ ," Todd said in an overly sweet voice to Téa and Jed. "Maybe they want to buy us dinner."

"Shut up and walk, smart ass. You're gonna need _miracle_ to get you outta this one."

Someone in the back murmured bad English with a heavy drawl, "She prolly will." He was silenced by a shove. But what he'd said hit Todd and Jed in the exact… same…way. The miracle was a _she_? It wasn't miracle… it was Miracle.

 _You're gonna need Miracle to get you outta this one._

Jed turned to Todd and murmured softly, "Weird."

"Yup."

Téa grabbed Todd's hand and they started walking, having no other immediate option. It wasn't long before they came to what looked like some sort of Native American community except there weren't any Native Americans. These were a whole _other_ set of Americans. There were houses built into the trees, into rocky hillsides, shacks, hovels. There was a small garden going, for food it looked like. There were women and children running around, not too many, but more than what a person would imagine when thinking on a small village.

Nothing short of freakish.

Todd turned to Téa with his mouth slightly open, to say something when he felt the gun poking in his back again.

"Move."

"Where the hell do you want me to go…and what the fuck is this place?"

The booming voice of a very stable-sounding, authoritative man came from behind Todd, Téa and Jed, saying, "Welcome to 'Destiny.' Sorry for the rather rude introduction. We've been getting a lot of uninvited guests…we have to ask questions. Best place to interrogate is here. You'll get to go home, but not as quickly as you'd like, I'm sure."

A very tall, blond-haired, grizzly bear of a man wearing combat gear stood in front of Todd. His rifle was even more threatening than the AK-47's. His was a real goddamn machine gun.

"My name's Ferris and this is my family, a little worn, a lot suspicious. The government wants to finish us off and we ain't gonna let them."

"What the fuck does that have to do with us?"

The man looked down … "You looked right suspicious. An intentional misstep on your part? Sun setting…and you're out hiking still?"

"We got LOST! You're fuckin' insane!"

Todd looked around, realizing he was in the heart of a 'gen-yoo-wine' right-winged militia camp, anti-tax, anti-government, anti-police, anti-civilization. Jesus. The women and children had vanished and all that was left was Blackbeard and his scouts and about twenty other guys in the same combat gear Ferris wore. Freakish. He held Téa's hand tightly in his and lightly put his other hand on Jed's elbow.

"Answer some questions," Ferris said.

"If you promise to let us go."

"Depends on your answers."

"Fine. Ask away."

Ferris proceeded to ask a slew of general questions about their backgrounds, about their purpose in the hills, about who they were. Todd did his best except he didn't want to give out all that much information. Last thing he wanted was to have these assholes show up at the Penthouse. Or use his identity for bank fraud or whatever. His increasing reticence started to irritate Ferris.

"No, you can't have my last name or my wife's maiden name or my son's name."

"You're not being very cooperative."

"Why should I? You got a machine gun in my face, you're threatening MY family – what do you think?!"

Téa had been listening quietly, studying the group. She happened to catch sight of a boy peeking at her from a window of one of the shacks and she'd grinned at him on the sly. He did, too. At that point, she realized they had something in common. She interrupted Todd and Ferris. Made sure to speak gently.

"Look, Ferris," she began.

Todd grabbed her, "Don't talk to him. Let me. I think our conversation's about to end and it's not gonna be pretty."

"No…wait…please, Todd," she urged. Todd considered, then released her, crossing his arms. Glanced at Jed who seemed curious, unafraid.

"I'm hiding from the government, too," she said, getting Todd's attention fast. "My step-son here – they want to use him, use his testimony, and the only purpose is to satisfy the agents' flattened egos, to soothe themselves because they screwed up. I won't have it. My husband here, Todd," she hesitated and spoke more to him than Ferris, "He doesn't know it, but the government's after him as well. They want to bring him in, they want to prosecute him for doing the right thing, for protecting his own son, for ridding the world of an evil, sick man. I won't let them. We got lost because we're not that familiar with the hills."

Todd sighed. Phillip. The cops had finally gotten on the bandwagon he'd been expecting. He immediately worried about Brandy. Hoped she'd kept them off her. God…he looked at Jed and said, "I'm so sorry."

"Whatever," Jed breathed.

Ferris was sold.

He made a motion to his troops. They scattered. He made another motion to someone farther away. The women showed their faces again…the kids began coming out as well. He handed his weapon to a right-hand man and said, "As I said, welcome to 'Destiny.' Break bread with us tonight. We'll get you back to Broadsmoat in the morning or sooner if you want."

"Sooner would be better," Todd said.

"You sure? Our home is fully secure."

"With all these guns around?"

"No one comes here. Not the government, not snoops. Nobody."

Todd chuckled, then looked serious. "I have to be someplace tonight."

The man looked down at Todd's wrist and saw the bracelet. He nodded, "Granite won't throw you out."

"How–"

"Trust me."

Jed's mouth parted a bit, as he glanced across the open space, then he broke out into a massive smile, and started walking away. Téa and Todd both looked in the direction he was headed.

"Holy shit! Aaron! The hell?!"

A bearded young man with long brown hair to the middle of his back, with braids hanging all through it, beads at the ends, strutted towards Jed holding his hands out, grinning as big as Jed was.

"Oh my fuckin' god, the hell are you doin' back? The hell are you doin' here?"

"I gotta ask you the same thing, dude!"

Jed hugged him tightly, pulling back, and the two boys hugged again. Laughing, in pure shock. Talking immediately, tales spilling out over each other.

Todd looked at Téa, aghast, "Ever see one of those Terry Gilliam flicks? Like _Baron Munchausen_?"

Téa nodded and shrugged, "One night won't hurt…will it?"

"Whatever. I hope I don't turn into a werewolf. By the way…I'm sorry about the cops. I knew it was gonna happen. Matter of time."

She shook her head, "Shhh…not now. Let's…just _be_."

The sun dipped beneath a massive boulder at the top of the hill, and some people began lighting tall lamps…their happiness was contagious. Jed's was. Téa smiled at Todd and grabbed his hand, looking him in the eyes.

They were meeting in a dream, Todd thought. Like he'd been walking for a long time, along a path…like he'd been making his way out of hell. And he'd just met her on the way. Pretty, pretty. He remembered visions like that once, a long time ago. When a spirit would talk to him and promise he'd make it out. Maybe she'd been right.

They followed Ferris who introduced the various members of his family along their way through the camp to the mess hall.

They were definitely in for a very interesting… _night._

 **To be continued...**


	18. Chapter 18

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 18**

From the back of a largish single room cabin that served as Destiny's mess hall, Téa tapped her foot rhythmically while several women of the Destiny family sang and picked guitar, creating a mountain bluegrass tune. The music was spiritual and captivating, their voices smooth with emotion and love and all that went into their daily living. Dinner had been a tasteful mix of home-grown vegetables and game culled from the surrounding hills. To drink, there was whiskey and a curious juice made of berries and water.

The tour of the camp Ferris had given Todd and Téa hadn't been so…refreshing.

The "family," the members of which referred to themselves as "freemen," was unquestionably strange and their devotion to their purpose was powerful, unbreakable. There was a kind of faith here that made average American citizens decidedly faithless. The group lived outside society, refusing to mesh with the rules the good old U.S. of A. in a never-ending struggle for extreme independence.

They were almost entirely self-sufficient though they still required medicine and various paper and cleaning supplies from the city. They'd make the occasional trip into town and no more. Electricity was self-generated using the falls, using solar energy, as well as a few small windmills. They had a doctor, a dentist, and plenty of legal experts who constantly worked on the technicalities and justification of their work.

Politically, Destiny had started as a small group of tax protestors during the years of the Viet Nam war. Ten or so hippies had decided their hard-earned money wasn't going to be used to pay for the undeclared war. Over the years, the purpose and their passion intensified, eventually developing into a hybrid of militant tax protestors and fierce objectors to ALL governmental intrusion.

Téa tried hard to see if there was any racism involved in their belief system but it wasn't immediately obvious. Upon a careful observation, she didn't see any people of color. Ferris didn't ever explain the purpose of the guns, other than a loose reference to self-protection. But no doubt, they believed in the Second Amendment to a fault. Which made her nervous. A person doesn't need an Uzi to protect oneself.

Téa couldn't help but wonder how they got financed. Some militia groups had members who robbed banks, who dealt drugs, who dabbled in the weapons trade to support their mission. And there were other worries: some militia groups bombed abortion clinics, one made a heavy statement using the Oklahoma City federal building, 168 statements… she mentioned these things to Todd, quietly.

And across the room … Todd and Téa saw Jed, who was shockingly comfortable in this place.

Todd leaned over and said softly into Téa's ear, "I don't think we know everything about Jed, about his beliefs."

"We don't ever know everything about anyone," she answered. He backed off, taking his warmth with him.

They lapsed into more silence, focusing on the music. Their eyes drifted to Jed though before long, to Jed who was in a kind of heaven. He was with one of his best friends in the world, Aaron. He'd told Téa about him many times. He'd even tried to get into contact with him, but Aaron had taken off from home which wasn't a surprise or even a disappointment. Just a fact. The two had known each other since kindergarten. They understood each other, they were each other's confessor, teacher, parent, partner-in-crime. They'd finish each other's sentences. Their lives had paralleled.

Aaron was raised by his grandparents, having been an out-of-wedlock child. The mother had long disappeared with a boyfriend and was presumed dead since drugs had been her problem. Jed's smiles and laughs were a wonderful thing.

If only it wasn't so disconcerting.

All of Destiny's devotion made Téa look at herself. A year ago she'd been recalling a failed loyalty on her part, a rejection of her own society, an inability to stick by Todd at the end of the hostage trial, a fear of facing his suicide attempt. When he'd left traditional society, she'd imagined herself a little girl on her knees, crawling to her own church like those women she'd seen who had made commitments to walk that way to the Virgin Mary, to prove their worthiness of having prayers answered. They'd walk until their knees were raw, bloody.

Téa often looked at herself wondering how much blood she'd drawn for love, for…what? She'd been working to prove something to herself, to show a sort of martyrdom, that unlike her mother who'd left the family she'd helped create, she'd stick to something.

SHE would be devoted … until it drew blood.

Except … what…was…she…devoted to? Had she proven herself enough? And really, to WHOM was she making such effort? God? The Virgin Mary? A goddess heretofore unrevealed? Herself? What did it matter in the end, if she had nothing left to give those she'd devoted her life to?

She shifted in her chair, thinking of Kyle, thinking of his wry grin and how he trumped his devotion to the Jesuit priesthood by offering himself to Téa. Not specifically, not out loud, no, he wasn't so brazen. With him, it was a reach of his hand, a glance at her. A removal of the crucifix he wore around his neck and a placement of it in his pocket, a visual display only for her eyes.

She'd taken the submission to heart. She'd spent time with him. She'd tested her devotion. In the end, she stayed the course.

The light in the cabin was dim despite huge fires burning in two massive fireplaces and hanging lamps. The alcohol was flowing more freely now and people were dancing in traditional styles, styles established decades and decades ago in the hills of West Virginia, children were being sent to bed. Aaron and Jed had left with a group of other boys…and some girls.

Todd had a shot of whiskey in front of him and he eyed it…tempted. Téa took it from him and drank it down. Shaking her head, she said, "Against the rules." She wasn't joking.

He took her hand which she pulled away sharply. Refocusing on the singers, the guitar players, the alcohol numbed her in a blessed way. Made her body tingle and loosened her. She moved to the rhythm of the joyous beat, one not only made by the instruments themselves, but by the people themselves. A quick tempo had been latched onto. The noise of the room picked up.

A youngish man approached her, grinning. He was at least six feet tall, slender, well-toned muscles evident under a black t-shirt that matched his black combat pants…and black, laced-up boots. Red wild hair that asked to be ruffled through, smoothed, blue, ice-colored eyes laughed easily.

"A stranger," he said, his voice a delicious tenor, completely ignoring Todd, not giving a damn who he was or what he was to the woman he spoke to.

"I suppose I am," Téa answered, with a touch of coquettishness in her voice. Testing her devotion.

"Come…come with me. Dance with me."

Téa said, no. He persisted.

"Please…I'm Edric. You must be named Fairlight."

Téa glanced downward a moment, then looked back at him. "No…I'm Téa."

"Pretty just the same. Come."

Strange…his wanting of her convinced her to stand and go with him. She took the stranger's hand, ignoring Todd just the way the man had. She let herself be led through the crowd and finally remembered her life, turning just in time to see Todd leaving, walking away, a largish presence himself. He didn't take a glance back.

She knew she'd insulted him, hurt him, and it played on her emotions while she took steps to learn the particular dance everyone was doing, a kind of twist on the two-step she recalled from movies, from…t.v. shows. Edric held her tightly to him and while they moved, her thoughts went to the devotion of the place, of herself. Once more. She drank something called, "moonshine," a bitter tasting homemade alcohol.

"You're beautiful, Fairlight," Edric said above the noise, saying it in Téa's ear so she could feel his hot breath.

"It's Téa," she chuckled, hardly able to get the words out, the numbing quality of the moonshine, muffling her.

"Fairlight…"

She'd put up with so much, she'd waited for so much. She changed her life, adjusting her interests, her priorities, to care for Jedediah, Todd's son by another woman. She'd watched Todd walk away tens of times, she'd endured his anger, his hatred. She let him use her body to soothe his wounds. Sure, she'd used him, too, for the same things. Maybe that was it, maybe she stayed around, teeth gritted, arms crossed, keeping the hearth warm…maybe she did these things to punish him. She'd perhaps crawled successfully to the church and now nailed herself to the wall…so he'd know. So he'd see his crimes, his intoxicating failures.

Perhaps…her self-sacrifice was a condemnation of him.

It was then, as she danced with the powerful Edric who most likely occupied himself with activities meant for nobody's eyes except his own and God's, that she truly felt the hostility for Todd she'd been feeling and denying for so long. God, it was as if every angry yell of Jed's, as if every hateful comment he'd said, as if every hateful act Todd had done, as if it had all surged inside of her.

The anger she felt was overwhelming. The fury of Destiny's citizens welled and she threw her head back in the most energetic of laughter and she felt herself carried by the arms and body of Edric…and the music…and the fight of Destiny to exist…without interference.

Such commitment.

* * *

Outside, Todd found a quiet place away from the crowd to breathe fresh air and to work on not thinking. He'd poked around the camp looking for Jed and couldn't find him which concerned him. He didn't know what the hell these folks were into and it couldn't be anything good. Not with that kind of firepower. He almost laughed at how Jed and Téa both were sort of drunk on the mood of Destiny. They'd been seduced. The ultimate was seeing Téa strolling with that…fucking he-man. Absurd. He'd sat next to her, his mouth open in disbelief as she got swooped upon. She walked onto the dance floor...feet not touching the ground.

Seduced. Like the Princess had seduced him.

He was on the outside looking in, only from another perspective. Téa had been taken by the political fervor Ferris showed her. He could see it in her eyes. It was the same look she'd gotten when he'd first met her. A kind of excitement brought on by being around people doing things outside convention, outside routine. People who were committed to a larger purpose than just making money, than just serving a few folks in a mission, people with the power to say, "Fuck…you," and mean it.

He needed a smoke.

Uncomfortable about Jed, he got up up from the tree stump he'd found and started walking … he felt sticky from the hike, from the stress. He wanted a shower and he admitted feeling weird and wrong about not being at Granite, about missing his medications. No, he wouldn't turn into a werewolf, but his depression could come back with a vengeance. Stability could really fly out the window…hell could open its door again.

 _No, no, no. It's okay._

He heard voices and he took a turn toward a cabin shoved up against the base boulders of one of the cliffs that guarded the entrance to this isolated valley. When he got to the open door, he saw Jed and a group of about ten boys his age … and about three girls. They were deep in conversation about religion…about the "right to bear arms."

They all shut up when they noticed Todd in the door. Jed smiled, not so big, not so openly.

"Just checkin' on you," Todd said.

"We're fine."

"You gonna … sleep here?"

"Yeah…you heading to bed?"

"Yeah, I think so. Long day. We head back tomorrow."

"Right."

"I want to talk to you, you know…about…your situation…ours."

"Okay…tomorrow, then."

"Right…okay."

The conversation didn't continue until Todd was a good number of feet away. He turned, but then headed away from the place. It was almost comical. Destiny…destiny that he'd be isolated, that he'd be alone for the rest of his life, that those people he claimed to love would close the door on him once he sort of lifted his head above water.

Weird. Providence. Téa's word… _providence_.

It would take a miracle to fix things…to get the quick fix. A miracle…who was a "she." He sniffled and continued to walk the perimeter of the camp, wondering how he could get to water. Maybe there was a lake nearby…oh there was, Ferris mentioned waterfalls where they'd rigged workings to fuel a generator…meaning…water.

Playing Indian, he listened for the sound of a river…and he thought he could hear it…so he went into the dark towards the noise. As he walked, the sound got louder, and so did the images he'd been carrying with him for a long while now. A torrid river had been to the left of the lonely road in his dreams, in his hallucinations. The boy had been to the right … or behind him. The cliffs had been so comforting. How often he wanted to jump so the nightmarish quality of his mental illness, of his dancing with heroin, could end. He walked towards one now, only he'd be at the bottom…looking up.

When he reached his destination, he almost laughed at the fairy look of it. The moon and stars lit the place up making it look heavenly. Like in a fantasy. He took careful steps to the edge and dipped a hand in the water. Pretty fucking cold. Didn't matter…he wanted to wash himself of the sweat, of everything. Baptize himself a new devotee to…

What?

He stripped to nothing. Stood at the edge of the water naked as the day he was born. Breathing in the cool night air. There were so many times…he could have simply stopped breathing. He didn't want to do that now…he wanted to keep going … hike down the hill. Earn more of those beads…keep trudging. He realized something…he didn't NEED Téa to heal himself, didn't NEED Brandy to ruin his life. Didn't NEED anybody. Just himself. One foot after another, in whatever direction he chose.

He'd made a commitment earlier in the day to write this article for Briggs. He'd talked to him a couple of days before he'd fucked everything up and it was going to be about the needle exchange unit. It was going to focus on this really important movement in Llantano county to try to stop an awful wave of AIDS in the IV-drug using population. The people who ran the needle exchange unit were amazing, he'd learned, changing the minds of these old bastards on the city council to let the mobile unit nest itself near Sixteenth…these modest people…full of power.

He never got started on the story. Never called Briggs back.

He'd slammed the door shut on Jed, locked the door, dragged out his gear and shot himself up one last time. He remembered not quite feeling the kick he'd wanted and then getting more of the dope…and then realizing the risk he was taking. Somewhere in his head, he knew…more of a push and it would all be over. He'd watched the door struggling against Jed's fists and listened through a haze to the boy's screams…as he gasped…and as the drug made everything go all quiet.

A few steps in and he leaped into the water, suppressing a yell at the chill. He swam a little…kicking his legs…turned over onto his back and floated…it was a good thing summer was almost here. The water would probably have frozen him to death otherwise. Maybe the heat of the cabin warmed him more than normal and his body, in turn, warmed the water. He bent his head back and could feel the water ring his face, leaving only his eyes…nose…mouth above the skin of tame river.

Commitment … to write a story, to stay clean, to learn to manage temptation, cravings…the hurts. He scrambled to tread water, looking at his bracelet … and he moved his ring so he could see it in the light.

"I love you, Téa," he said. "Maybe I don't know what that means when I say it. I know what I feel when I hear it from you…I think it's something like wanting to be around you…and wanting to think about you…and wanting to kiss you…and…imagining places where we'd be together. Imagining a barking, snipping dog at your feet… a fence along a backyard…a pond where there's fish and frogs…and even a fuckin' turtle. I don't blame you for dancing with that guy, or doing anything with him. I don't like it. Stupid, I know. Hypocritical as all get-out. I know…I know. I know all that. SHIT! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! I'm sorry about everything. I just wanted to feel good…I was so tired of not feeling good. Tired of hurting."

He swam some more…and drifted…and felt the rocks beneath his feet…and let himself sink under the water, sinking down…and when he started to go back up he grabbed onto some vines in the water, wrapped them around his wrists…so he couldn't go up.

Risks…risks…the water was amniotic. He saw himself as amphibious. He could live here…eyeing the surface…watching, watching…changing, developing. Waiting for just the right moment.

 _Amniotic…_

When he needed air he stayed a bit longer…pushed the limit of his lungs. He wanted to take in a deep breath of water. He could do it, he could.

But he wouldn't.

He had to get Jed outta here…and Téa. She had to be saved from herself, from that…freakish, gun-toting he-man.

 _Fairlight. What HORSESHIT. I'll give YOU fairlight. My fist alighting fairly on your fucking face._

He unwound the vines and shot to the surface, thinking… _hypocrite_. Well, he didn't give a shit. He still had to save his Delgado from herself. He hoped she wouldn't regret anything in the morning. Taking in a huge breath of air, he floated awhile on the water.

Something caught his attention…a glimmer…a shadow. When he looked at the rocks around him, he didn't see anything. When he looked upwards, he saw a woman standing. Watching him. Long hair down…wow…that was some fuckin' long hair.

And a full exposed body, a gold-colored wrap. She looked like a fairy. He chuckled to himself. A fucking fairy…she looked like the spirit he used to see in those days at the hospital. He'd been so sick. But of course…she couldn't be a spirit…because he wasn't sick like that anymore…and he had the water to cool his fears and worries…he was…amphibious, after all.

"Hey," he said.

She said nothing in response.

"So be that way. No skin off my back. But you're gonna have to turn around. I ain't got any clothes on."

He wiped the water from his face, looking at her some more. He couldn't see her features…the details of her face. Only her heavy breasts, the fullness of her hips, her ivory skin. Her constancy was disturbing. He decided she was one of the freaks in the camp and obviously he'd invaded her privacy, maybe he'd even ventured into some sacred water or something. The thought of this being holy water made him suddenly need to piss. Oh yeah, the power of suggestion.

He shrugged…nature being too strong a call and waded to the edge of the water, getting out and heading over to some shrubbery. He looked back at her briefly, saying, "Sorry if this is some shrine or something…guess you could kill me...I'm sure you have some gun tucked…in…someplace. Like everyone else in…Destiny." He urinated…pissed on the dirt. Pissed off.

"Kind of name is that anyway? Destiny. A little over the top, don't you think?"

"Don't you believe in destiny?"

"Ahh…she speaks. And…no, I don't. It takes away all choice in the matter." He lied. He sorta believed it. Eh…maybe he believed in nothing. God is dead. Isn't that what he'd heard? Didn't the Sun publish that sometime ago? Newsflash, there's no God, there's no hope. Might as well fucking drown yourself, now. He'd turned back to her, walking without regard to privacy. Anyone's. He grabbed his jeans…yanked them on. He'd lost his shorts someplace. Shirt…socks…boots.

 _Fuckin' hell_.

"You forget something?" She had them.

"Ha…ha…ha. I like going commando. It's very apropos, considering I'm in a… commando camp."

When she laughed, Todd kind of froze in place. His eyes fired up at her. The self-congratulatory smile he'd gotten over his quip faded…she'd just taken a figurative baseball bat and swung at his head.

It had been a while since he'd heard that laugh…

...since it had bounced around inside of him, warming him, telling a scared boy he was loved and he wasn't worthless and he meant something to another human being and that it wasn't him who'd driven his mother off, it was Peter…and that he had a reason to live and wake up in the morning and smell the roses alongside the road and that if you looked at the sun for just a moment before clapping shut your eyes, you could still see it …a dark circle…vivid and perfect and round and…lasting.

" _Open…open your eyes again…shut them!"_

" _You're crazy, Michelle."_

" _No, it's true. Try it."_

" _Okay…okay…yeah…I see what you mean."_

" _It's going to last."_

" _It's fading."_

" _No…that's because you want it to."_

" _Laugh again."_

" _I can't."_

" _Try."_

" _Say something funny."_

" _Mmm…I love you…I knew that would make you laugh."_

" _Now I can't stop!"_

Todd collapsed onto the rock behind him, and held his head in his hands…a headache ripping through him. Shots of the brutal rape Peter had committed came back, hard and gut-wrenching. The scene played over and over…played like a home-movie, the popping clicks of the projector going, noisy and deafening.

 _Unstoppable_.

"Run…Michelle…run..."

It wasn't all that long ago when it would be live, in 3-D, and his body would be a plaything to the memory…and he'd feel it…he'd be caught by it…and Tim would have to talk him through it…or he'd have to be sedated…and he'd end up lying in a pool of sweat, stuck, stuck…paralyzed by fear…his brain thoroughly fried. He could still hear his own groans…and his screams that would be shut up by Peter's arm hooked around his throat.

And…it had been a kind of destiny that the loss of Michelle was punctuation to the trauma, the phrasing after a semicolon or a period…a lasting reminder that no matter how ugly things were, he would always have the worst part to hold onto …to be replayed over and over…he would always have the permanent loss of love.

He'd be given an amazing ability to piss on love because he couldn't stand to overcome…he couldn't bear the concept of forgiveness. He deprived himself of love…he committed sins…to ravage whatever love he could squeeze out of his wretched life.

The loss of Michelle had permitted him to recall the punctuation long after the sentence of rape had ended.

He could hardly breathe.

He looked up at her…and she still stood there…with her hands on her hips. Jesus. It was Michelle. She wasn't dead…she was right in front of him.

"Look at you," he said softly.

"Look at _you_."

"I…uh…"

"Cat got your tongue?"

"You're…"

"Naked. Nearly so."

"That…too."

She laughed again. The magical sound faded though. And when it was quiet again, she said, "I think it's poetic that we're here…exposed. That we see each other…uncovered."

Todd shook his head, saying nothing. Covering his face with his hands, consumed with the most aching shame he'd ever felt in his entire life. He was uncovered … he'd made a mess of things. He'd taken precious gifts given to him over the years and splintered them against the rocks…bashing them as if they were nothing. He'd committed the most heinous of acts against women…despite what it had done to Michelle. And now Jed lived with the legacy of it all.

He should slip back beneath the water and hold onto the vines. And finally stop the breathing. The way he'd done so often with the heroin. Just…stop…just end it. Why continue in the fantasy of life? The search for Phillip's killer would be over. Everyone would finally be free.

Téa …and her…gun-toting…extremist…freak...

Caught by the absurdity, he breathed deeply and remembered he'd forgiven himself for things. There'd been reason for the things he'd done, he'd been made to not feel, he'd been let go by people…they'd turned their backs on him and left him to handle punishments all by himself. He'd once been a boy, just a boy, who'd asked for none of it…and nobody had ever told him what to do with what had been dealt to him, so he did what he had to. He handled it the best he knew.

He'd become a raging, rabid…hateful monster. Tearing at everything in his way…and then he remembered that all wasn't lost. That he'd created love where there'd been none before. With Jedediah…with Starr. And with Téa.

Téa and he had once been on their own paths…walking along, alone…and then they'd faced each other…and they made love…like building a fire in a desolated place…and he'd been a part of it and wasn't….ha ha ha ha…didn't those hippies say making love is better than making war?

 _Destiny_.

Stupid-ass place.

Michelle had jumped into the water and now she sat next to him, dripping wet. She touched his face…

"Hi, Todd, hi, my angel."

"Oh god…"

He fell onto her, had to hold back a sob. Then he couldn't. His hands shook as they felt her body, her shoulders, as they grabbed onto her long hair…he'd been just a kid…just this beaten, torn-up kid…and she'd given him just a little reason to wake up in the morning...to continue to breathe. Nothing to say. Nothing…to say. They stayed that way a long time…so many minutes went by.

 _Michelle. His Michelle._

"Look at you," he said, pulling away from her…and looking into her eyes which were the color of his. Only pretty. She still had those freckles…as if someone had sprayed poppy seeds on her and she'd squinted and laughed as it had been done. A wild mix across the fairest of skin. God, how he'd melt when looking at her. How her gaze had made him catch his breath. Something he hadn't felt until Téa.

She touched the scar on his cheek…and shook her head.

"I heard about you," she said. "I know what happened afterwards. What you did. I cried so many tears for you."

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. The tears rolled down his cheeks, the salty fluid running into his mouth. "I'm so ashamed."

"I know. I think you've punished yourself enough though, don't you?" She'd taken his hands and looked at his arms…looked at what he'd done…and she caressed the damage. "My poor Angel…my poor Todd."

"No…I'm not that."

She smiled as if he'd said something wonderful… "Oh you are that boy I remember. Still denying how beautiful you are." She held his cheeks. "You're a man, now. You can really fly, now, the way you'd wanted." He had forgotten how much she knew. They'd once sat on his bed in his room and they spoke of the red plane that had once hung from the ceiling fan. He'd told her how Peter had ripped it down. He told her…he'd fly one day for real. Fly away. They both realized he never did.

Todd blinked at ugly thoughts seeping through and he took hold of her wrist, her small smile leaving at his motion. The judgment sat there in his eyes. In the way he gripped her. She was his mother, she was every woman who turned her back on him. And she could see it. She thought she knew what it was about.

"You're angry at me."

He said nothing, not releasing her.

"I had to hide, Todd, from Phillip. And I couldn't contact you…it was too late. My mother had learned of the change in you. The trouble. I knew why it had happened and I couldn't say anything. I…I was only a girl. There wasn't anything I could do for you."

The anger didn't lessen.

"Todd, we have a son. I became pregnant."

"Jedediah."

She swallowed…twisting out of his grasp. "You know?"

"Yes, I know. You left him. Like my mother left me."

The tears welled in her eyes, now. Her face crumpled with years of regret. Now she knew where his anger came from.

"I had to, my angel. To protect him from Phillip. He had no idea Jedediah was mine, yours, he couldn't know. I made my parents promise me to never tell anyone." She managed a weak smile… "And I know it worked. The bastard left him alone. I never heard news of his death, of his murder. That was everything to me."

The reality hit Todd hard…knowing how different Jed understood things to be. Knowing the truth about Phillip as well…he hadn't left Jed alone. He saw pictures…one or two… he remembered those. Phillip made sure to flash them…it's what got Todd to the underground of Llanview. His own responsibility lessened the hate over her leaving that child. He could use the knowledge to hurt her…he could. He chose not to. Simply saying…

"Phillip's dead now. You don't have to hide anymore."

"Where's Jed?"

"He's here."

"What?" Her face showed her shock, her eyes opening wide…her hand flying to her chest…to lie against her heart. She touched a necklace she wore.

"He's in the camp. We got lost…your weird-ass Destinos sort of….captured us…sort of…and Jed's here. He's with Aaron…and god-knows what he's doing…he's probably planning to blow up something. Maybe an abortion clinic…or a bank…and don't think Jed's not capable of it. The boy is…he's…something, let me tell you…Jesus."

He stood up…indignant.

"Are you fucking INSANE, Michelle, living in a FUCKING MILITIA camp?! Holy FUCK!"

The outburst caught her by surprise and she laughed, and then began to cry in her hands, saying Jed's name…the one she'd had to leave behind. It had been in their best interest. It had been the only way for them to survive. To barely…survive.

"And what the hell? Talking to people who are jumping off cliffs…and…and…and…people talk about you…they call you, 'Miracle,' like you're some…saint or something…Jesus…that's…really WEIRD!"

Sniffling, she agreed. And tearfully explained, "It was the only thing I could do to keep myself sane, Todd. I left my child. My sweet, sweet boy. We were almost like brother and sister…so close in age…unnatural…he was my heart. He was a part of you…my everything…I had to save him. I couldn't bear the thought of that monster killing him. I'd seen it done to you…I lost you. I wasn't going to lose your child. SO I walked…walked…and held babies…or led little ones home who were lost…and held the hands of tired people who were leaving this earth…but I couldn't be seen. I had to hide."

She cried…and Todd fought his own tears.

He looked down…thinking about how close Jed had come to getting killed by Phillip. All that sacrifice by Michelle might have been for nothing. He sat down next to Michelle.

"Maybe you should get dressed. More so."

"No. I can't…I can't see him."

There wasn't any judgment right now. Todd, too, had hidden from Starr. On more than once occasion. He hid from her now.

"He's a man, Michelle."

"He's 17?"

"Yeah. He has a girlfriend…with piercings and tattoos and this red hair that stands straight up sometimes…and he's…uh….all…grown-up." Todd put on a wary face, of not wanting to say specific words. "You know… _grown-up_."

"Ohhhh…" Michelle smiled sadly and shook her head. "I think I can handle what you're saying."

"But he's very careful, safe, unlike us." He sighed, feeling the beads on his bracelet. "He loves movies, he reads all kinds of books and spends time with his nose buried in a notebook. He rides a motorcycle…and doesn't talk much about college…because…well, he's a truant…he smokes a lot of weed. He's been in a juvenile detention facility. He pretends he doesn't smoke much…it's a lie. I don't think he does any other stuff. I can't say for sure. He's fucking smart. Fucking brilliant at cheating and you know…he's gonna be something. He's…fiercely independent."

Todd hesitated.

"Except, he's got a lot of hurts, Michelle. He's very angry at me…for my not being able to get myself together … to face head-on my life, my fucking…fucked-up…life. He's two steps from being me…from…ruining his own life. He's a runaway train…"

She looked at his arms again…taking his hand into hers… "You're an addict?"

"Trying to work on being a 'former' one."

"You wanted to drown in the water tonight. You thought about it. I could see you…you held onto the vines…the moon showed you to me."

He shook his head…not denying what she said. Even though she said it weirdly.

"That was you on that cliff," she added, "wanting to jump. You threw your wedding ring away."

"Did you know it was me? That day?"

"Not until tonight."

"How? I look different."

"The scar on your cheek helped. I thought about it after seeing you on the cliff. It bothered me…the way you spoke…you haunted me. I knew the inflection, but couldn't recall from where exactly. Tonight…when I heard you talking about your love…for Téa…" She smiled… "When you mentioned the things you'd have…the fence in the backyard, the dog…it all came back. I knew who you were."

She began to cry, sniffing back the tears. They were quiet.

"How did you survive the fall?"

"Ferris, the leader of the camp. He found me…I was unconscious…broken. He healed me, nursed me…loved me. I told him what happened. He's protected me these years."

"You're…his…" Todd looked slightly…disgusted.

"Yes…he's my husband."

Todd laughed… "That…freak with the machine gun is your…HUSBAND?! I feel offended. I think…you know…he should have been… I would have thought…"

She chuckled, wiping her tears away, her hand reaching for his. "That he'd be more like you?"

"Well…yeah." He smiled at her and she did, too. "Okay…maybe not."

They grew quiet again, sitting close, sitting like they used to. They both watched the stars above, remembering the few times they'd snuck away at night, riding bikes up and down the street by their school, sneaking kisses.

Jedediah was on their minds.

"I need some time, okay?" Michelle said, finally breaking their spell. "I need to prepare things…maybe Jed should be prepared."

"He needs you in his life. I don't think he'll become the Pope or anything…but maybe…he'll get that little push to slow him down…to get him on another route. The push…I never got."

She cried again and put her arms around him, "You were his Angel Daddy…no matter what. You were something special that happened to me. We were put together for a purpose. I know you don't believe in destiny…but I do. There's reason for everything."

She let go and looked at Todd…and stood up. "I believe in you," she said.

Then she walked away into the darkness and Todd wondered for a moment if it was real. But when he looked in his lap, a gold necklace lay across it with a pendant, a "j". He knew who he'd give it to.

Jed would need some special care to receive this shock, to learn of Michelle. It hadn't been so much of one for Todd. After all…he'd spent months and months listening to a spirit he now knew had to have been an essence of Michelle.

A voice in his own heart that hadn't been lost after all.

* * *

He managed to rescue his other clothes and made his way back to the camp. He had to find Tea…he'd probably have to have to violently pull her out of the Freak's bed and he shook his head. Almost chuckling. Almost being the operative word. He wasn't laughing, not one fucking bit. He hoped she was okay.

That Delgado…he grumbled. He deserved the insult. He wanted to prove his worth but it was going to take time. Letting go of self-hatred and deprivation is a hard thing to do…but…he was going to do it. He loved her. He had to do it. And…well…yeah. That was all there was to it. He did understand that maybe there were a lot more Edric-Freaks down the road, bedding Delgado, in his path to wellness.

The place was quiet…the first place he checked was the cabin with the teenagers. Everyone was sacked out. Jed was curled up in a corner on top of a sleeping bag. Curled up…defensively... back to the wall, arms in front of him. Almost seemed to be sleeping with a blade in his hands. Kinda sorta looked that way.

Todd had to pause, resting against the side of the cabin. Broke his heart to see a changed boy, a man showing scars that had never been there before. The first time he'd seen Jed asleep, he lay on his back, his arms and legs spread… _come and get me_ , his body said. Not a fear in the world, nothing. Nobody had ever messed with him when he slept.

 _Fucking Phillip. Killed that in the boy. He's dead now, though. Dead...dead…dead._

Turning back around, he strolled the camp and saw someone sitting on a chair watching him. Some other freak in a commando outfit. Todd smiled tightly and said, "Hey there, Sarge. Have you seen my _wife_? Name's TÉA and…she's got brown hair to here…and is wearing jeans and a yellow turtleneck sweater- you know what those are right?"

The man smirked.

Todd sighed, nodded, "Yeah…just tell me where she is."

Another smirk. And a finger in the direction of another cabin.

"Thanks…if you hear bullets…it'll be my dead body that will be on the receiving end…from that red-haired…freak. I am totally and thoroughly unarmed."

The man smirked. Pointed again.

Todd walked slowly to the cabin…and tried the door. It was unlocked. He knocked first. A warning. He'd walked once in on Blair and fucking Patrick Thornheart. His head and heart had taken a few bumps walking down that road. And he knew, it was possible that he'd see Téa…you know…making love... or kissing or…enjoying the fucking afterglow.

Jesus, it would serve him right.

And…he was…okay. He understood. It was logical. She's a woman who's married to a FREAK in his own right. And…yes, the freak loves her, and he'd thrown his life away on a number of occasions for her…because of her…to avoid her love…a kind of love that was breathtaking…but…it's hard for her to live with that. He got it, got it good.

With a heavy, sigh, he turned the knob and opened the door…

 **To be continued...**


	19. Chapter 19

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 19**

At the gentle twist of the doorknob, at the warmth of the darkened cabin, Todd's peaceful resolve almost entirely fizzled. He almost turned on his heels to sprint into the outer-lying woods, preferring the idea of being lost and searched for (or not), rather than being the one to do the finding.

 _Like usual._

As he faced the shadowy room, reality assaulted him, monsters bounding out of the gloom: the stickiness of Michelle and Jed, the threat of Phillip's murder, Granite and the possibility of never letting his addictions go, Brandy and her lingering hold on him, the confusion Mason raised that he never even considered before, his questionable, unreachable commitment to a new life…the craziness of Destiny. The monsters punched him in the gut one right after another and he hunched over, bleeding from the hits, the seeping into his system of truth, reality, fear, the murkiness of his future.

This is life, real life…everything's being uncovered… what now?

 _You can't know everything about everyone_.

What was he going to do with yet another secret blown to bits, the secret of how Téa really felt about him now that he wasn't so vulnerable, now that he was totally sober… totally, purely himself? Or was it such a truth that would be revealed? The fact that he'd been with Cristal, that his _male_ roommate decided to give him a kiss and it was kind of… nice… none of it reflected how he felt about Téa…so…so… her being here… wouldn't reveal how Téa felt about him...

Bottom line, he could not run from whatever was about to happen. He was determined to do things differently and this was another first step. He'd done good with Michelle…he hadn't lashed out at her for dumping Jed or him or hiding a pregnancy and…and…ending up HERE. He didn't hide anything other than the real ordeal Phillip put Jed through, but that was complicated so it needed to wait…and if he'd told her it might have sounded vengeful…right…and he did tell her the truth about Jed and how he'd turned out…that Jed was mad at him for being so fucked-up…and he didn't let himself drown either. He let go of the vines. He also walked up right up to that other freak and asked for Téa …and he'd taken it cooly that most likely she'd be with the He-Man, with _fucking_ Edric, she'd be Fairlight…fair…light…

Resolved again, prepared to accept the inevitable, ready to face facts as they were. Take it on the chin. Keep a stiff-upper lip…replay the Blair-Patrick thing with a different response. NO RUNNING. His mind worked fast, flashing through a gamut of emotion, endless possibility of circumstance.

So…he pushed onward through the door.

Inside, the only sound he heard was a gentle, repetitive and rhythmic squeak of weight pressing down on a wood floor. He saw right away there was a large loft…and he breathed, closing his eyes a moment, reaching for steadfastness, a Zen state of mind that was so easily slipping…

He took another deep breath and focused, rested a moment more against the now-closed door. Listening…listening…his eyes gliding to a pine ladder leading upwards. He worked at not feeling the sinking of his heart, knowing the unfairness of his reaction. He was such a hypocrite, god, hopelessly, endlessly, the king of the double standard.

A soft moan interrupted a squeak…her voice.

 _Shit._

The place looked lived in, a lessening fire crackled in a blackened, oft-used hearth to his left, a snuffed-out kerosene lamp sat on a pine table, and hand-made chairs waited to embrace visitors. Quilts lounged about, rugs softened the floors, exposed wood beams boasted the labor that went into building the cabin, and what looked to be a hundred books stood at attention on rickety shelves. In a small area that served as a kitchen, a half-eaten loaf of bread, cut-up cheese, and a threatening knife spearing a block of wood lay on a counter.

He walked slowly to the mess and grabbed the knife by its handle out of sheer animal instinct. He worked it out of the block while his eyes followed the reach of a ladder a few feet from him, a way to the loft that was the source for the repeating noise he heard. He heard a soft grunt, no talking though, no whispers. No thumping flesh or the rustling of sheets, either.

Another moan intruded on his building illusion.

 _Resolve, remember? No running, no hiding. Zen._

He placed the blade down because that would be bad, that would be reflective of a past life, and once the blade was resting safely, he petted it as if he was sorry he was leaving it behind. He had to adjust, had to remember his own guilt, his own problems and lack of loyalty, and how it would be right, understandable, if Téa was _busy_. She had a right to feel good, too, yeah?

The squeak continued, the even cycle of noise. He should simply go. Not running, just leaving her to her privacy…to her doings…to her needs…

 _Shit..._

…and he bit his lip, bit down until it bled, until he could taste salty iron, because these people were dangerous. What if she's being held against her will…or…what if He-Man's doing bad things that maybe she'll regret in the morning? Maybe he just should be sure she's okay before he leaves her to do whatever she had to do.

Yeah…that's the right thing.

Putting one foot on the first rung of the ladder, he called out tentatively, looking at cobwebs stretching across the beams directly above him, "Téa, it's me. I just want to be sure you're okay…and then I'll go. So…you okay?"

The squeak stopped and he heard a clunk of metal, a mashing of parts into gear. No response from Téa. Was that a gun? Oh no, oh shit, he _had_ to go up there now. His instincts were right, that maybe she was being held captive.

Feeling brave, or maybe like it wouldn't be so bad getting a bullet between the eyes, he grabbed hold of an upper rung and pulled himself slowly upwards, step by step, each move closer to an end. So sure of what he'd find but resolved, so very _resolved_. When he poked up above the floor of the loft, he found himself staring at the double barrels of one nasty-looking sawed-off shotgun.

 _Fuck_.

Behind the gun was Mr. He-Man, _Edric_ , sorta sitting up, sorta lying down, comfortably on the bed, shirtless, in unbuttoned black commando pants, one of his unlaced but still booted feet resting on the arm of the rocking chair so he could move it, so he could make that continuous noise. He aimed the weapon at Todd, staring him hard in the eyes. Next to him lay a sleeping, partially-covered Téa. She looked peaceful. She looked incredibly _undressed_.

Todd dropped his eyes…

… _it's okay, it's okay, it's okay_... _breathe...be Zen..._

"I'm not armed," he said in a soft tone.

The man didn't respond, keeping his icy blue eyes firmly on Todd. He started rocking the chair again, making that noise. Todd's mind said to turn around and go back downstairs but his body wouldn't move. He couldn't leave Téa next to this freak with a shotgun.

Todd pushed the limits of conversation, his voice trembling in the slightest, "She okay?"

The guy didn't answer at first, glancing at Téa…then he rumbled, "Bit inebriated, lovely Fairlight just the same, lovely to hold, breathless to behold." Edric's voice was deep, husky with alcohol…and god only knew what else.

"Well, you had your fun…and since she's my wife…I can take over from here."

Edric laughed softly at first, then harder. He quieted himself because he didn't want to disturb his charge. He'd not moved the shotgun, he'd not changed positions, he continued to rock the chair. Todd wanted to knock it over, knock it off the loft. There was something furiously antagonistic with this guy…and suddenly, the whole fucked-up nature of Destiny came rushing at him…and pissed him off all over again. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure Jed _needed_ Michelle, wasn't so sure Michelle _needed_ to come out of hiding…not if these people were going to be more than just a stumbled-upon accident.

Yeah, Edric wanted more and Todd was gonna give it to him.

So Todd climbed the rest of the way, making sure to be noisy, making his footsteps heavy. He wished he weighed two-hundred fifty to make his entrance that much more insistent.

As he stood straight and as tall as he could be, head nearly to the roof of the cabin, he glared at Edric and found himself wondering whether Michelle… _a near-naked, just-pregnant Michelle with greenish blue eyes staring horrified from behind a sofa…_ he wondered if she knew this man well, wondered if she fully understood the undercurrent of violence in this camp called Destiny. Wondered if she knew she had bound herself to violence the way Todd had. He had no doubts that if he pushed the issue, Edric would blow him away without a flinch of an eye. He had to get Jed out. Téa …well, if she liked this culture, who the hell was he to stop her?

But Jed…Jed…

 _Jed who was sleeping curled up like a wounded cub, a pill bug, a turtle…protecting himself. Gotta get him out…Michelle or no Michelle._

Sighing and licking his lips, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, stopping himself from biting down to taste blood, he took in the sight of Téa sleeping on the bed. Clothes were thrown to the side, boots thrown haphazardly to the side, too. Like in a hurry. He resisted an overpowering urge to pick her up and put her over his shoulder, to take her far, far away, where nothing could touch them.

She disrupted the moment by suddenly turning over onto her back, with open, curious eyes. She smiled hugely at Todd and then flashed the same sort of easy grin at her right-winged militia man.

"God…," she moaned. She shook her head and giggled, rolling over into the bed, grabbing the pillow, seeming drunk.

"That didn't help much," she grumbled before giggling again.

Todd breathed in deeply and fought a twisting inside his gut and kept his feet in place. Téa quieted and nuzzled into linens grayed by lots of washings. He thought maybe he should turn around, maybe there wasn't much to fight at this point.

 _Resolve to be different._

Edric chuckled deep in his throat, mockingly, and Todd bit down, fisting his hands, growling, "I guess she's okay. I should go then. Just… _go_." Again, his body wouldn't move. He glanced over at her delicate form under the covers. He swallowed hard, swallowing something that felt like the sharpest of rocks, and his stomach flipped over. God, it made no sense why he'd feel this way, why his resolve fell apart at seeing this. He felt stupid, unable to learn. Unable to move forward. Unable to be different.

"She's my wife," he sighed beyond his ability to control. "I guess it would be in Destiny's tradition to kill you for insulting me this way."

"Is she really your wife? Funny, she didn't mention you. Never saw a ring… and she didn't act married… _with me_."

"We're funny that way. Her and I…you know…we don't act married but we are. Pieces of paper…they mean everything to us. It's all we have. _Paper_."

"What…you guys some kind of…swingers?"

Todd laughed because he thought he saw an HBO special once on swingers and they were all…really, really… _old_. And he decided that with every second passing, he was hating Edric more…and more. Forget Téa's affair, this guy was an ass all on his own without doing a thing to Téa…or Jed…or anyone.

"Look, I'm tired, and I want to go to bed, with her if she'll let me even near her, but see, I can't know that until I talk to her…and…I can't talk to her with you pointing a fuckin' gun at me."

Edric rubbed his lips together and stood up to Todd's equal height. He shoved the two barrels right under Todd's chin.

"We don't like strangers…and I really don't like strangers in my house, interrupting MY night…with bullshit."

Now he'd had it.

Todd chuckled, glancing down at the rifle, all resolve going out the goddamn window.

"You think this shit scares me? You think I'm…what… _afraid to die_?" He laughed darkly. "You're living with bullshit. It's all right _here_." Todd tapped the side of Edric's head hard and THAT made the man livid. Edric's eyes lit up with intense fury and moved the gun down, aiming it right at Todd's gut, about to pull the trigger, when Todd grabbed the end of it, grabbed it solidly, and shoved it so that Edric backed up, getting knocked off balance. At that moment, Todd twisted the weapon fast, forcing it out of Edric's hands.

Now Todd had the shotgun and aimed it straight at Edric's chest.

"What do you want with Téa? What's she to you? A plaything, a new convert, an incubator? What?"

"Get out of my house."

"Not without my wife."

Téa had woken up fully by that time and was sitting up, holding the covers to her, saying softly, "Todd, it's okay, I'm alright…it's okay…"

Todd didn't move one inch, holding the shotgun still as death, and growled to Edric, "Get down those steps…and get out…get out, you psychopathic FUCK so Téa can get dressed, so we can leave."

Edric sighed and shook his head, pointing to Todd, "This isn't over."

"Oh it's over all right. And if you touch my son out there, if you come back in here…I will kill you with my bare fuckin' hands, then I will take this shotgun and blow your rotting body to kingdom-fucking-come. Then…as dessert…I will take out anyone else in our way."

Suddenly the door opened downstairs and they all heard Ferris's authoritative voice boom across the cabin, "Edric! Let's go, brother. Leave 'em be. They're our guests tonight."

"This man has insulted me! In my own house! And this woman doesn't want to be with him."

Todd jerked his head at that, wanting to look at Téa, not wanting to let Edric out of his sight… except he had to know. He ached to know the truth, this secret.

"That true…Delgado? 'Cause if it is, I'll get out. I'll go. I'll leave you with him. It's all I wanted to know."

Téa sighed and Todd could hear the sheets moving, could hear her make a sound…Jesus, like she had to think about it. Which told him what he needed. Todd's face crumpled, his whole insides just…dropped…and likewise, he dropped the gun, feeling Edric yank it out of his hands who chuckled like he'd won the lottery. Or a schoolyard brawl. Todd glared at him. Sure, he might have lost Téa…forever…but he wasn't going to let this asshole run roughshod over him. Hell, no.

"Fuckin' ass," Todd grumbled, turning to go down the ladder. Okay…maybe a little roughshod. He didn't look at Téa who still said nothing, couldn't look at her. He'd go outside…he'd go to the lake…and fuckin' cry. It's okay…he was cool…he was…

He was gonna be sick. He jumped the last step and didn't quite know where to go. Oh yeah, the lake. Maybe he'd see Michelle. Maybe he'd drown her, too. Just because.

Ferris didn't like the arrangement and said, "Now Edric, you come down here, too. Leave the lady to rest."

Todd had no idea what happened afterwards. He stormed outside into the cool air and just breathed. Once, twice…three times a lady? Stupid fuckin' song. Somewhere behind him he heard Ferris and Edric arguing. Ferris, Michelle's _husband_ , unbelievable. The argument soon faded. God, this place was just crazy. Completely whacked.

So Téa had revealed her secret.

 _Well… shit._

He traipsed back to the lake and sat on a flat rock and watched the water ripple in a soft night breeze. Looked to see if Michelle was around again. He had a feeling she was a night creature. He started to envision her, questions popping, and he stopped it. The fact of her being here was a little too big to think about much. He couldn't quite go there now. The details were a little too scary a monster to see all by himself here in the dark.

She wasn't around anyway. Nothing to ask.

So his thoughts flowed along with the blackish water to Téa. He'd screwed things up. He'd no right to her, no right to demand or even ask love from her. He'd taken it, he'd abused it. Of course Téa would run to someone who called her such a pretty name, though Fairlight wasn't as pretty as Téa. Of course, she'd turn to someone who was dangerous…and exciting…and an asshole. Maybe he'd treated her nice though, just enough to fool her, and maybe he looked at her nice, and maybe she just was fuckin' mad. And did it just to do it.

The worst part of it? She knew she didn't have to sleep with the guy to gut him. She just had to be quiet. She just had to lie in that bed and not do a thing. Offer nothing but her silence. Pow…bullet right through his heart.

 _Could hear a pin drop…_

It didn't take long. He put his head in his hands and found himself crying like a baby. Muffling his stupid sobs with his sleeves so his filleted soul wouldn't be the skinned monster for everyone to see. He let it out. Let the humiliation out, let his hurt out, let his aches out. When he was done, he washed his face with the cold lake water, got to his feet, and made his way back to the cabin.

He wasn't going to run away from this. If they were over, great, whatever. He just needed to know.

He opened the door to cabin again, knowing she'd be alone this time. He thought she'd be sleeping. Instead, she was sitting in front of the fire on one of the pine chairs, having wrapped herself up in a blanket. Watching the flames jump. Someone…or she…had stirred it to life again. She didn't turn around.

Todd opened his mouth to talk and nothing came out. Clamping his jaw shut, he sighed. He walked to a real-life icebox, pulled it open, and got a jug of water. A handmade thing made of clay. The whole rustic thing was sort of getting to him. He poured himself a glass, Tupperware sorta thing, had to go to town for that bullshit, put the jug back, and then plunked himself and his water on a chair across from Téa. He drank the relieving fluid down and studied her. Her eyes reflected the light of the fire and her skin looked creamy…he didn't think she had anything on under that blanket. He hoped he was wrong…

"Did you make love with him? I mean, if you did…it's…not for me to say anything."

"No, it's not."

Quiet again.

"You don't feel-"

She bristled, "I don't feel what? Tell me…what it is I don't feel? Since you know me so well."

"You're mad at me." Todd smiled slightly, sadly. "You can be mad."

"Yeah, you said that already. We 'can be mad.' Like you're giving me and Jed permission."

"No...that's not what I meant."

"Oh God, just stop."

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me that way."

Todd tore away from her, staring into the fire. Monsters lurked there, too. They were everywhere. There was no place to hide, nobody to run to, nothing to run to. He was goddamn sober and it was hell.

"You want to stay here, Téa? You wannna be with this guy? He means something to you?"

Téa shook her head, laughing bitterly, tears falling much to her surprise.

"It's not about the guy, Todd! I'm so angry at YOU! I'm so hurt…and it's all right here. It lives here…Jesus." She'd placed her hand against her chest, indicating her heart. She was upset, emotion pouring out, and she wiped away the tears roughly, pulled the blanket tighter around her body.

She looked so small, Todd thought. He thought Brandy was little, but in his mind right now…she seemed bigger than life. Looming in the background. He knew it wasn't her exactly, it wasn't HER, the woman…it was HER, their life, that loomed large. Their self-obsessed, heroin-tinged, poverty-stricken, sick life. The one where he could nurse his hurts and make them deeper. The image, the threat of it, was enormous. It took his breath away.

Téa...was small, gentle…with a voice that was hard to hear. Tim had said that once, that love was harder to hear than hate. She may not love him now, but she had loved him. He had been so bad at listening.

"Talk louder," Todd whispered. Téa looked at him like he was crazy.

"Your voice," he said, "it's so soft."

"I don't feel like screaming at the moment."

He gazed at her with an intense sadness, "I know. Love has a soft voice, too, and sometimes, I have a hard time hearing it."

Téa squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fists to them, shaking her head. Todd had gotten to his knees, holding her by the arms, and she fought his hold of her.

"I don't love you! Do you hear THAT?! I don't, I don't… goddamn it...I don't love you..."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so so sorry…I'm so full of sorry, I don't even know where to put it all."

She stopped fighting his grip and just breathed in her anger, releasing it in a long slow exhalation. She couldn't say when during the night she had turned into the werewolf, where her patience for him suddenly evaporated. She had been eating and drinking and enjoying the respite. She was so tired. The mess hall had been warm and she had turned to Todd, just to look at him. He was studying everyone, eyes soft and gentle, their hazel color bright, the green shining in that low light. He was truly curious, innocently curious, There was no anger in his gaze, none of the addict in it. There was almost a childlike quality to his passive observation. Then the music started and he had smiled to himself, indulging in a private memory, and then just stared at his dinner, almost all of it eaten, more than she had eaten, a healthy young man's amount, nothing like the absence of appetite when he was on heroin. He became totally lost in his thoughts, absently bobbing his head to the music. He was sober, vulnerable, awkward, whole, imperfect, handsome, thoughtful, experienced in the world and yet adventuring in an unfamiliar place. My god, she had thought, how much he had deprived his loved ones of such a perfect, imperfect, beautiful human being in favor of a broken, abusive bastard. He had buried himself almost like revenge.

And she became angry, blindingly, raging angry.

"I know that, you son of a bitch."

"This is it, isn't it? I mean…the kicking of my ass over Brandy, huh?"

"What?"

"A long time ago, you and I…we were in this motel room, the…China Moon…"

He struck gold, Téa's eyes darkening. Her face…oh yes, he knew…she could be selfish now that Todd was better. She could indulge in her own hurts. Finally.

"And B-

"Don't say her name."

"Okay…SHE was there. And you told me to come home with her in tow…and I thought that was funny coming from you. And you said when I was better, you'd kick my ass over her, but not until then. You just wanted me safe…even if she had to come along."

"You called me a horrible name. I remember."

Todd nodded once, "I remember. I kissed you."

"You didn't kiss me. You licked my lips…and told me…"

"Don't say it."

"Damn you. Damn you for depriving me of YOU since forever, for never sleeping with me all through our marriage and then breaking your fucked-up celibacy with HER. Damn you for that. Damn you for using me, damn you for hurting me, for walking away from me, for using drugs when I begged you not to."

Todd was still on his knees, holding her arms with hard hands, holding her tighter as she talked, listening to her…his eyes never leaving hers. Her voice softened as the words got harder to say.

"Damn you…for scaring me, for loving another woman. Damn you…for still loving her. Damn you for not loving me more than you do…and for loving me in your sick, sick ways. Damn you for turning your hate onto yourself…and for refusing to hear me or to feel me love you. Damn you, Todd…for making me love you and then spitting on me when I give it to you. Damn you for loving me only when you want to."

She breathed in harshly to stop herself from crying any more than she already was. She didn't let go of his gaze, she looked at him so he could SEE her hurt. So he could FEEL it.

"Damn you," she whispered.

His eyes grew wet and his expression showed no protest…his lips quivering.

"I hate you right now," she whimpered. "I could take that shotgun and blow you apart. I want you in pieces, bits and pieces spread into the air, falling around me like blooded rain and hail. I want you in pieces for every moment you've tortured me. For all the moments you're _going_ to torture me because I know deep inside of me, this will never actually end. You are the devil and there is nothing you can do about it."

"Don't say that," he rasped, the pain of that truth tearing through him.

She worked to control a sob, gritted her teeth and looked into the fire. "Oh god, you don't even know…"

"What?"

"The way you look when her name is mentioned, the way you looked when you talked to her on the phone that night you left…all the other times…your face, your eyes…she consumes you."

"It's not her..."

"And?! So the hell what?! Her, heroin, whatever. This is it, Todd…you're right. You want me to be mad, well you got it. I'm FURIOUS AT YOU! I HATE YOU! And you HAVE to handle it…and if you don't want to, or say that you CAN'T…well…you can take a good old fashioned leap into the ocean because I don't give a good god damn about your wounds…about your hurts…about your rancid, incestuous relationship with her… or heroin. You can just go to straight to hell."

"I'm already there."

She laughed angrily, "Oh that's rich…throw in your pain again, your automatic defense…like I'm supposed to ease up on you. Fuck you and your goddamn wounds. Fuck YOU."

They were quiet. And Todd sat back, letting go of her, looking at her, looking forever _wounded._

His voice floated to her…drifting…like dust…"Did you sleep with him?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yeah, I'm asking…you're-"

She flashed him, opening the blanket up and she was stark naked. He looked at her body and reached to touch her belly. He lifted one shoulder in a kind of shrug, the barest of smiles on his face that changed into a grimace, two fat tears rolling downwards and dropping off into the dark. He didn't care. He lowered himself, nestling his head against her stomach, a kind of prostration before her. He sniffed her skin like an animal, seeing if someone else had been there, confirming it. She felt him open his mouth and move upwards…she felt his heated, wet tongue against her. Again, animal-like. She grabbed his hair and pulled him up…

"Don't."

"I love you," he said in a scratchy, agonized voice. "I don't care what you did. I get that you're mad, tortured, torn up…there is so much to be mad about. But I'm here now…me…I'm with you. I _want_ to be here."

"You don't know what 'being here' is." She got a look on her face Todd couldn't read. She then hissed, "Has there been anyone else besides Brandy? These past weeks? That night you called…you sounded like…I don't know…you reminded me of other calls I'd gotten. You were funny, too, when you were talking about the people at Granite…your friends. So? Hmm? Who are you fucking _now_?"

Jesus, she could read him like a fucking book. Fucking hell. He knew he'd been caught and he knew his eyes showed the truth. He couldn't do it. Oh sure, some people would say honesty is the best policy…

"Nobody," he said under his breath.

"Liar," she spat. Then she grabbed his hand and showed him his bracelet…pointed out the ring. "Why's it there, Todd?"

Glancing down, he saw the truth of things. The murkiness of things. He swallowed. "I put the ring there because you're part of something I'm working towards. I put the ring there because it's as sacred as my trying to be sober. I'm shaky…the threat is still there. Heroin is still huge and terrifying. I say things, I make promises…and then at night, I can hear them in my head and I know how fragile they are. I'm afraid of breaking my vows. I break so many, so easily. I put the ring there because I feel like a liar. Just like you say."

Tears welled in his eyes, brightening them, making them sparkle. Making them look like pools one could swim in. They made him look raw and honest. Téa wasn't ready for it.

She took his head into her hands, tugging at his hair briefly before pushing him away. "Why'd you cut it? Trying to impress someone?"

He shook his head, the tears spilling and making him sniffle. "I didn't want the long hair…because…"

"Because what…SHE didn't like it? Or maybe someone else? Or…what…what…what?!"

"Because I didn't want to be reminded of what I looked like when I was using, because the hair had been on the floor of that fucking shooting gallery…park bathrooms, other places, because people who abused me, had touched it. Because if you took some of it and analyzed it, you'd find heroin. I couldn't stand the thought of it. It made me want to USE. I had to cut it off."

He so wanted her to believe in him, even just a little. Despite the lies that still fell out of his mouth. She stared coldly, refusing to give in to the plea for understanding, for the smallest amount of forgiveness.

"Vows of fidelity…you break them. You do it once…you'll do it again. Were they ever real? Maybe I'm ridiculous in even saying it. What VOWS? What am I talking about?"

 _Vows._

He almost laughed, almost cried. There was only one vow he stuck to, only one _real vow_ … and she waited for him to return, lounging in her silk in the doorway of a streetside motel, squeaky bed behind her, dirty carpets and bathrooms and fresh needles on the night table. The Princess. He had long divorced all his other loves, all his other obligations… and married hard the Princess. Fused his body and mind to her. Heroin. His eyes told the whole story and he saw it in her face, the way it crumpled with held-back tears.

So, he told stories, bigger ones.

"Well," he pouted, "…there was the cook in the kitchen. She has the biggest boobs you've ever seen. She likes to do it on pancake batter…and…who am I to refuse. There's the art teacher. God, the way she makes baskets…my mouth waters…and I admit…there's a Pakistani woman who cleans our rooms…she's a little paranoid…we relate… and she yells out Pakistani curse words when we-."

"I hate you," Téa said sadly, through her pained tears that fell despite all her work and Todd smiled at her a little and caressed her cheek, wiping the wetness away…no, he wasn't going to tell about Cristal because Cristal was part of his sickness and he couldn't hurt Téa right now. He also wasn't going to tell her about the shooting gallery where strangers touched him or Phillip or the innocent kiss on the bed in Granite. He could not explain that he had lost control of his body, the same way he had lost control when he was a child, a teenager. Couldn't tell her any of it no matter how much she thought she was prepared to hear because he really didn't understand it himself. So he gave her the opportunity to fire back, to hurt HIM more.

"Did you...uh...…sleep with him?"

"I'm not ever going to tell you that, Todd. Not a 'yes,' not a 'no.' There's no good answer."

"What do you mean?"

"If it's 'yes'…it gives you a weapon in the future. If it's 'no,' I'm a chump."

She raised her brows, gave a shake of her head. A renewed flow of tears slipped out. Todd closed his eyes, not really needing her to answer. The scent of Edric was all over her. Technicality didn't matter…she'd turned to him… let him love her…whether they had full-on sex was wholly irrelevant. He ran fingertips down her side, down her leg, eyes on her body as he did it, watching her muscles react to his touch. He looked at her face. Eyes on her lips. The fire warmed the two of them…and he took the blanket's edges and pulled them further apart, exposing her body completely.

"I don't love you," she said softly.

"What…you love the freak? The one with the sawed-off shotgun?"

He'd said the words huskily, and leaned forward, placing his body against hers…growling, "I don't have anything… _sawed-off_ …"

Téa laughed in spite of herself, tilting her head back and let Todd kiss her neck… "Jesus, you're such a bastard…"

"I love you, Téa."

"And what does that mean to you?"

"It means I ache when I think of you and can't be with you…it means you're everything I want…and you're in every heartbeat of mine…and it's you I think of when I want to die…and it's you I dream of when I'm afraid of the world…and of screwing up…and it's you I want to be with when I'm drowning in my fucked-up sexuality…"

The last phrasing had come without thought and they surprised him.

She cupped his cheeks at his last, making him look at her. "How fucked-up?"

"You can't imagine."

"Worse than what you've already shared with me?"

He couldn't tell her, wasn't sure he'd ever tell her…rounding his eyes, grinding his teeth unconsciously.

She looked into those hazel pools of endlessness, running her thumb against his rough skin, feeling the shadowy growth of a beard. She ran her fingers all along his face and he closed his eyes to let her touch the eyelids, to let her frame his face. She shook her head at herself, at her weakness for him, for his hold on her.

Leaning forward, she kissed his lips fully. Aggressively. She knew she sent a shock through Todd, feeling his body shudder. His fucked-up sexuality spoke to his history with women, his sexual abuses of them during college, the straps on his wrists that inflamed him, the desperate humping of her that he'd done when he was at the apartment with Brandy, to prove something to Téa, to show that he _could_. There was a lot more she did not know of him and it made her want to cry…because THAT was something that got to her… the deep, ever-present wounds that showed on him like goddamn stigmata, blood pouring down him, tears on face… hanging of a goddamn cross.

Jesus CHRIST!

He responded roughly, kissing her back, sucking on her tongue, eating her alive. He clenched her shoulder with one hand, he pressed against the back of her head with the other, forcing her to him. And she could hardly breathe, her skin burning, her insides tensing with the most incredible want…and it infuriated her.

With her lips touching his, she hissed, "Can you taste him?" She opened her eyes, knowing she hurt him, wanting to. She'd not let go of the anger, couldn't. It drove her.

His eyes held her, pupils dilated with sexual heat, and he paused his pursuit. Licked his lips.

"What are you getting from this, Todd? What's the manipulation, the goal, what's the underlying threat here? What is it that you want with these kisses, with your very... obvious... hope to fuck?"

She reached down and felt his erection, and he gasped like a virgin. He said nothing, letting himself lie a little heavier on her, a shudder running through him, reverberating through Téa as she felt him through his jeans. He raised himself up on his hands, hands falling on both sides of her. His features were soft, smoothed, formed into an expression only sexual touching ever brought out of him… a face that looked years younger, an expression that was so powerfully distinct from anything he ever showed the public. Téa sighed at the beauty of it, the realness of it, the honesty. He was full of wanting, lust, and need and it was…

 _Pure. Free._

"I want to be inside you," he rasped. "I want to possess you, taste you…take you inside of _me_. I want to hurt you …I want to soothe you …assure you…I want to kiss you…and love you. I want to keep you, wrap my arms around you, and fight off anything that tries to get near you. I want to say I'm sorry for the millionth time…a million times of useless sorries. I wanna just _fuck…_ I want to _come…_ I want you to come…I want you to be happy…and wet as hell…I want to hear you scream…and say you love me…and I want to be high with you. On you. I want you to be my heroin." He relaxed his muscles and laid his body along hers, breathing, "I want to just _be_ with you."

Téa touched his hair as his head rested against her breasts and she regarded the beams above her, thinking the electricity in the air was so strong she could have sworn she heard sparks. She ran her fingers up the back of his neck, drawing him closer as she listened to him breathe and make the softest of sounds in the depths of his throat, as she listened to the dying fire…she spread her legs slightly and he nestled further in between them. There was no logic here. No reason for her to let him in…to let him near her.

 _Pure. Free._

He kissed her shoulder, bit her skin, and held her tightly, embracing her fully. He had no right to any of it. He reached down and undid his jeans…releasing his cock…and she grabbed him and her jerked at the feel of it…gasping again...

"Let me inside of you…," he groaned, as she pulled at him, as she gently stroked his impossibly hard flesh, as she felt wetness seep from him, as she looked at his face against her, his eyes closed, his hips thrusting gently beyond his control. She felt his hot breath on her chest and felt his whole body hot and fiery and consumed. She spread her thighs further and he lifted his head, his cock at the entrance of her core, her own nectar scented and plentiful. He only had one thought in his head and it was animalistic… primitive… ancient... he was the young boy that had only recently discovered the bliss of an orgasm, that couldn't stop bringing it… only no, this was a man who knew the power of sex, who knew its full edges and curves… who had finally let himself feel its full force, who threw everything else aside to just…

...be.

"Yes," she whispered, and he slid into her, the slide making them both moan in relief. He pulled back and then drove into her, getting Téa to reach into his jeans and grasp his ass. He rocked his hips and it almost hurt her, he went inside so far.

He had no right to show her love but this was beyond norms or conventions or vows or logic or paper.

She held his hair in the fist of one hand and dug the fingernails of her other into his skin, scratching his muscular shoulder and pulling his shorn locks with each of his thrusts and feeling his heated, wet huffs. He clutched her tightly, pressing so much of his weight on her. It felt so good and so wrong…

"I don't care if he was here…I don't give a fuck," he groaned painfully, achingly truthful.

Téa forced him to kiss her and he rewarded her with a crushing one, his tongue deep, his hand now on her hair, pulling it, groaning into her mouth…thrusting his cock into her like he couldn't get enough of her. Like he couldn't get _into_ her enough. His hands searched her body…touching as much of her as he could, slowing at her breast and pinching at her hard nipple, pulling at it…tugging at it until she was asking him to stop because it was too intense. He'd stopped all the motion…and pulled out of her.

He pulled her down to the floor, and he landed violently on his back, the pain of the fall feeling good and necessary. He pulled his jeans down and stroked himself… and Téa climbed on top of him…and he took her whole body into his arms, putting himself inside of her again. Massaging her ass, he urged her to move against him…and then he kicked his boots off, his socks…jeans…Tea took off his shirt…leaving him naked…raw in so many ways.

"I don't love you," she lied.

"I know," he grunted as he grasped her hips…and made her fuck him…he tilted his head back and was purely present, purely fucking… and he groaned obscenely… thinking of more things he wanted to do to her, places he wanted to fuck her, positions he wanted her in…kissing her again, kissing her hard…

Because he knew her, because he loved her…because…because…

He opened his eyes wide at Téa sucking, biting, the tender skin on his neck…feeling her teeth on him…making him crazy…getting him to lose a little touch with the real world…putting him into a place where he felt love, real fucking love, love that only got expressed in this way, that couldn't be denied, no matter what she said, what words she threw at him. He could feel her running through his veins, powerful and potent. He rolled her over and held her wrists in his hands high above her head…and he reached, reached for a four-strand rope he saw…a rope underneath one of the chairs and he laughed…and then didn't.

He paused above her, looking down at his precious, vulnerable Téa, looking at how much of a lioness she was and he grinned like trouble and before she could stop him, he managed to tie her wrists together. Her eyes widened at the realization of it… and she choked out a short laugh, incredulous at what he'd done. They were both panting, their lips barely touching, and she pulled at his lower lip with her teeth, letting it go before saying, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I told you I was fucked-up…now try to get out of it. Fight it…fight my restraint of _you_."

She did, keeping her eyes trained on his…and her heart clenched…because he was twisted…and he let her see it…and he shivered as she strained against the bindings…and he plunged into her…high on the badness of the ropes constricting her tender wrists, on the wrongness of it…at _seeing_ it. He shook with intense sexual energy and he smiled down at her, then didn't…and he kissed her again, more crushing possessive kisses…and she could feel the sweat on their skin as their wetness mixed. He stroked the entwined cords with his fingers, liking the contrast of the rough rope against the smoothness of her skin, _such, such defenselessness_ , and he pushed into her…whispering into her ear, "I love you. Nobody else can have you. I'm tying you to me. You hear that?"

"I hear you," she answered and her eyes moistened, glistened with illogical love, the kind that comes from an unearthly place, from the heart, from someplace beyond. She opened up her legs, wrapping them around him.

"Fuck me, Todd…come on…harder…"

He did, he rammed into her, but then he slowed down, grinding his hips in maddening circular motions, keeping himself buried in her, and then he stayed still, letting her move against him until she was shaking violently from an orgasm…and the power of it made her fight the rope even harder because she wanted to touch him, to feel him. He wouldn't let her though, pressing her hands above her head, keeping her restrained which aroused him even further. He massaged her breasts and sucked her nipple until she was practically screaming for him to stop…only he kept at it. Kept sucking and licking and biting until he felt her sex convulsing around his shaft, which made him intensify the thrusting…until he couldn't do it anymore, pushing into her forcefully, finally exploding deep inside of her, his entire body jerking with the force of it, making strangled, throaty sounds at it, his head buried in her neck.

 _Pure. Free. Sober._

And he let himself collapse on top of her…aching, aching with love, with a blind passion for her…with both satisfied and unsatisfied need…with gratefulness…with obsession…possession.

Still breathing hard, as was she, he released her wrists…and touched the redness there…and kissed her delicately. And he groaned with the freedom of it, the truth of it. Love…love…he just loved her. That was all it meant. Not a means to an end…but simply an end. Or a beginning. Or something in between.

Téa wrapped her arms around him and clasped him to her, caressing him, feeling him rub his face against her heated flesh like the primitive creature he'd become. He slid slightly to the side… and they watched each other, looked each other in the eyes for the longest time.

The fire died down…and they could no longer see the details of one another. Todd touched her face, her cheeks, jaw line, ran his fingers along her throat, toyed with the ends of her hair. She touched him back. Likewise. They were hushed.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Yeah…now that I tied you to me."

"You didn't tie me to you…you simply tied me."

"It's metaphorical."

Téa laughed softly…then didn't. "It's not right."

"It's…very…wrong."

"You talked to people about it?"

Todd was glad they were in the dark. He nodded, whispering a weak, "Mighta mentioned it to a counselor at Granite once."

Téa said in a lighthearted voice, "And what did he say, _honey_?"

"He said I was never to do that if I was angry. He said I shouldn't do it if I'm having strangulation fantasies…"

Téa was non-responsive for moment, then... "That's…strangulation as in strangling the woman you're with?"

"Yeah, he said that was a bad thing."

"And tonight…no strangulation?"

"No…not really… I wasn't really thinking very deeply this past... um… hour."

Téa laughed softly and squeezed him to her. Purely himself, purely free… utterly sober. A healthy young man… in love… and really goddamn turned on. She laughed a little more.

"Oh my god. I shouldn't be laughing…"

"But I didn't want to strangle you, so according to the counselor, we're a-okay." He smiled and Téa could tell. "I feel so much better now that I've opened up to you," he said.

And at that Téa scream-laughed, grabbing onto him, and he nuzzled her, tightening his own hold of her… "I love you," he whispered in the dark.

Hours later, as Todd slept next to her, his arm wrapped around her waist, the two of them beneath the blanket dragged off the chair, Téa watched dawn come. The sun peeked through the dirty windows and the reality of the cabin broke through. She had no future at this very second, no thoughts of it. No illusions. She had love, though. She had someone who looked into the face of something that had haunted him for years…sexual betrayal…and he didn't run, he didn't hurt her…he just…accepted it and understood what it meant…or understood whatever it was. No, he'd never know the truth…it didn't matter, though.

They…understood more of one another. And she got to glimpse Todd… in a pure form. She wished he could stay in this bubble. But knew differently. She had seen an angel here… a spirit… and sometimes they disappear for hundreds of years...

Todd stirred and touched her body, running his hands across her abdomen, touching her all over with slow, hungry movements. Wordless. He moved close to her and kissed her lips, her cheek, and the well at the base of her throat. He climbed sleepily on top of her. She breathed in his musky scent and she shivered at how intoxicating it was. She put her hands on the sides of his face so she could look at him, but he shook her off roughly, preferring to lay his head on her shoulder. He reminded her of a waking lion. He reached below and touched her sex gently, massaging her, teasing her…until he felt her wet enough for him. He then slipped inside and pushed lazily into her. Téa saw his eyes were closed, as if he really wasn't awake…and she closed hers. Their breathing deepened…quickened…and Todd kissed Téa on the mouth as she moaned through an orgasm. He got on his hands, lifting himself up, and Téa eased her knees back…and then he lowered himself onto her again, grabbing her rump, holding her still…and he thrust insistently until he finally came, hot inside of her, quietly, though, breathing hard and fast. Freely, purely. He lay hard on her, heavy, sleepy, holding her fast to his body.

"I love you," she said.

He lifted his head at that, opening his eyes for this, for her…took it in. Held it to his heart. Knowing how fragile those words were…especially now, especially from her. Another day had come…it would be a significant one. But for now…it was just them. Untouched.

"I love you, Delgado," he whispered back before curling tightly against her, before slipping back into sleep.

 _Pure. Free._

 **To be continued...**


	20. Chapter 20

_**Note from Author: Thank you for reading! Edgefire, I'm getting the rest of these chapters up as fast as I can for you! LOL**_

 **On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 20**

Sleep has a way of wiping away reality and creating a divine illusion of safety and rightness upon waking. Todd found himself smiling as he gazed at Téa, nestled against him, so… _peaceful_. Her body was velvety and relaxed, all the tension of the previous night gone. Guiltily, he reflected on the probability that she hadn't had a tension-free day for ages. He caressed her cheek with the barest of touches. He pressed his lips against her silky hair, lightly touching his cheek to her. She didn't stir at all. She finally fell asleep just after sunrise, light pouring through the windows of Edric's shack and painting the entire room with the most amazing golden hue. He was dazed because he'd never known this kind of _clean_ , emotional freedom…ever. These past two days had finally showed him the beauty of sobriety.

He was in. He liked it.

They were lying among and under various handmade blankets, on top of a fur rug, Todd slightly propped on a thick, feather-filled pillow. The rustic shack had that wonderful coolness that disappeared with a tight embrace. He listened for ghosts, for Satan, for anger, listened for that junkie hunger that never seemed to go away…and heard nothing except birds chirping outside, Téa's delicate breathing, his own heartbeat, and a breeze tapping at a back window. Life couldn't be more perfect. Right now. At this very moment.

Too bad they were in a right-wing, gun-obsessed, psycho militia camp somewhere unknown in the mountains of West Virginia. He'd missed his werewolf-prevention medications however, and down the mountain a slew of heroin addicts at a funny farm awaited his return to hear more of his nightmare life and tell him about theirs.

 _Fuck._

Peacefulness will end.

He carefully moved Téa off him and she shifted into a cozy, fetal position, clearly undisturbed. He resisted running his fingers down the length of her bare back, the bumps of her spine as delicious-looking as sweets in a window. Chewing on his lower lip, he thought about what they needed to do next…which was to get the hell out of Dodge. But first he had to find Jedediah. They had so much to talk about. Mainly, he had to tell Jed that Michelle was alive and kicking (with a psycho militia husband to boot) and he had to talk to him about Philip's murder. He had to assure Jed that he'd handle things, that he wasn't going to let the cops touch Jed for something he did.

He would confess to the killing, if he had to, even if it meant serving time.

 _Statesville._

He ran his hand over his hair, scratching hard at his scalp, stress tightening his entire body. Shivering with a sudden rush of anxiety, he moved the blankets so they more securely covered Téa and with the most awful regret, he eased himself away. After gathering his clothes he quietly dressed, except for his boots. He stood at the edge of the rug, watching Téa, mesmerized. Their lovemaking, if a person could call it that, had been…well, he felt thoroughly rolled beyond mere physicality. It was as if she somehow gotten inside of him and coursed through him, filling his mind, stretching the boundaries of his beliefs and muscles, scraping his underbelly, his insides…

 _Like heroin._

How could it possibly be? After all the shit they'd been through, after everything he put her through? Throw their bodies together in a room and they couldn't keep themselves off one another, couldn't keep _out_ of one another. He smiled sadly.

"I love you, Delgado," he whispered.

He put off thinking about the future, about tomorrow. Fingering his bracelet and the wedding ring, he swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn't want to go back to Llanview or to Granite, that was the truth. Going back meant feeling pain and fighting unstoppable compulsions to fuck things up. Life to him seemed a decrepit house to the ball and chain guy, something just aching to be torn down, crushed. Shouldn't have thought about Granite…he closed his eyes and as if a door had cracked open, he could see images…Peter's eyes…a park bathroom… Brandy…a blossom of blood into a syringe…faceless people at Toby's… untold, hellish damage in Llanview's underworld…

Shaking his head, he licked dry lips, wanted water. Food. A bathroom. Basic stuff. He ambled over to the counter, noticing there was a sink with a faucet. Running water. Wow…pretty advanced for being in Nowheresville. He looked to the right and saw a primitive looking bathroom and shower. Double wow. No outhouse. Cool. He popped in there, relieved as hell. Further delay to reality.

After his very quick and extremely cold shower, after taking care of personal business and getting dressed, he searched the kitchen and decided to leave a breakfast for Téa who was still blissfully sleeping. He found a plate and sliced some bread and cheese (eating a bit while he worked), cut up some apples and pears. He would have fried one of those nice-looking fresh-ish eggs on the countertop, but being that he hoped she wouldn't wake for some time, he didn't think a cold fried egg would taste very good.

Everything he did, he did quiet as a mouse like when he was a kid. Only this time, he was trying to avoid waking a devilish angel as opposed to the Devil.

He arranged everything on the table, placing a smaller plate next to the large one, a mug for the apple juice in the jug. Standing back, he mulled over the results, unhappy. He was lousy at presentation. Rooting around some more, he located a sheet of paper and a pen. He also found a loaded pistol. Grinning, he wrote a note saying he'd be back once he talked to Jedediah, not to go anywhere, and to shoot Edric if he so much as peeped in a window.

"Love, Todd," he whispered, ever so proud of himself, smirking. He covered the meal with a cloth napkin, used the gun as a paper weight on his note, and walked to where Téa slept still so soundly. He grabbed his boots and walked to the front door. Taking one last, longing glance back at her, he left. So much work to do.

* * *

The yelps and hollers and laughter of Aaron, Jed and a couple of Destiny's girls, Gretal and Lauren, echoed against the jagged rocks lining the ridge. Only those sounds weren't as loud as the shotgun blasts fueling the joy. The foursome had hiked a ways away from camp to Destiny's very own shooting range, enough of a distance away so that they wouldn't wake the late sleepers. Jedediah, who'd never shot anything, ever, was positively high off the sense of power he felt when he splintered a wooden target using the 12-gauge. When he shot up an old car bucket seat someone had dragged up from town, he couldn't contain the rush of seeing all that _damage_. There was something terribly exciting, and horrifying, about the huge gaping hole in the red vinyl.

"Told you," Aaron purred, beaming before he sucked down some water from his canteen.

"Fuck, yeah," Jedediah said back, his heart racing and his smile huge. He was admiring the short-barreled weapon in his hand, the slick metal, the scent of a fired shell. Gretal laughed and grabbed Lauren by her hands, the two holding on to each other and twirling faster and faster in the morning sun, their giggles breathy. They let go and ended up falling on the dirt, in hysterics. Aaron patted Jed on the back.

"Isn't this wild, man? Isn't this place just like we talked about, _dreamed_ about? Remember?"

Jed nodded, grinning a little. He easily recalled nights outside Fayetteville when they'd camp to get away from it all, the hours of fantasizing to stay in the hills, to never go back home. "Yeah, it's weird," he said. "I mean down to the chicks…"

They chuckled knowingly, in agreement. Gretal got up at that, dusting off her pants and sticking her hands into her plain, navy-blue pocketed sweatshirt. She nudged Jed and batted her eyes, saying softly, "I hope you stay with us."

"I don't know," Jed said, shrugging a shoulder, looking at Gretal, his attraction quickly turning into a crush. She was just that cute with her dirty blond hair to the middle of her back, her turned-up nose, and these deep-blue eyes. Real… _nice._

They'd been each other's warmer throughout the night, having talked with the others until late, until he nodded off in her bed, a sleeping bag of sorts, prematurely breaking off some awkward, nervous, guilty kisses. Ten kids in all slept together in this shack. It had struck him as strange that the adults didn't mind the boys and girls bunking together – he couldn't fathom the temptations. He was surprised that there weren't more out-of-wedlock children running around. Lord knows when he woke this morning next to Gretal, he had to hide his massive hard-on, had to restrain himself from touching her. From just getting her to please, please, please, squeeze it once because that's all it's gonna take. He finally had to resist doing it to himself to get a little relief.

So he'd asked about the openness on their way down here.

Gretal explained that on the weekends, everyone loosened up. The older teens (kids older than 16) could cavort to their hearts' delight while the freer adults played, too. The little kids, kids under 16, had rotating babysitters or their parents during the weekend nighttime revelries. Apparently Destiny had a "coming of age" celebration for the kids who reached 16. Schooling was completed at that time, work took over their daily lives, and because of the increased responsibilities, they received certain freedoms. The kids could drink (moderately), smoke, and date. Pregnancy was discouraged until partners got married. But…there was the occasional mistake without any shame. They called it, naturalism.

Gretal had proudly declared that she was now…16. Just celebrated two weeks ago and she was anxious to "date." She had smiled at him during the evening and pulled him into her bed when it started to get late. Some fuss was made by the other "couples" and singles, cat calling, and teasing, but soon tiredness reigned and the shack had quieted with sleep. Ironically, the lack of privacy in the communal bunk actually discouraged much heavy-duty sexual activity. And while Destiny did exist outside traditional society, privacy hadn't been abandoned. They weren't _that_ savage.

Though, to be honest, he was sure that if the kids wanted it, they'd get it, privacy or not. He had a couple of those experiences with Summer when they'd hang with her runaway gang on the streets of Llanview. There was just no place to go…they ended up being together yards away from the others, the only cover being a blanket and shadows. Hands over each others' mouths.

He put away a rush of missing her. Which lead directly to a shock of fear about Phillip…about the cops asking all those questions…about…his own _Angel Daddy_. He couldn't turn him in…

 _He certainly could_ … _he'd deserve it._

He'd suffered enough.

 _He didn't. Not enough suffering._

What _exactly_ happened down there in the underground caves of Llanview?

What Jed hadn't been able to share with Téa were his sickening nightmares. They'd intensified like nobody's business since they'd gone on the run. He couldn't tell her just how bad they were, how graphic. Todd hurting him, Todd…doing something…bad…to him…

 _This ain't nothin', it's not real._

Just a dream? Is that how he wanted him to remember it? As just a bad dream? He'd kind of changed his mind when he saw Todd, clean, sparkling, and smiling, happy, chattering away on that walk. Maybe it was a dream, Jed had thought. Maybe yeah.

But then nighttime hit and he saw Todd so mad that Téa had been dancing with that guy and Jed could see the edges of Satan, the guy from the hospital, the guy who'd done all those awful things…and the nightmare came back in full force, playing with him the entire night. Only when he woke up next to Gretal, warm and inviting, could he push the nightmare down a little.

 _I need to hold his wrists for things to work._

Aaron practiced shooting his .45 Magnum, blasting away at a tree marked for target practice. He managed fairly well, only missing a few shots. He grinned arrogantly and held his hands out as if calling for more applause.

"Right on," Jedediah said, distracted now, plopping down on a blanket set up by Lauren. She called Aaron over and all four began to unload their backpacks. Trying to get off the subject in his head, he eyed Aaron, "You never explained how you got here."

The girls, who both had been born in Destiny, who'd never known life outside, chimed in, "Yeah, Aaron, you never talk about it much."

In between chews of a cold, fried chicken leg, Aaron said, "Really?"

"No, you really haven't," Lauren said, "Funny, I never even thought to ask. I guess to me you just belonged. Never mattered to me how you got here."

Aaron smiled, winked, and started his little tale, still eating. "Well…Mr. Jedediah Chant, you remember my step-mom…step-witch…"

"Yeah, Myrna…Mean Myrna…"

Chuckling, Aaron went on, "Right, well…remember when she split?"

"Yeah, I remember. Fell off the wagon," Jedediah nodded, eating a sandwich and taking a fresh canteen from Lauren who was murmuring last minute commentary to Gretal.

"Exactly…got real bad and I got sent to that foster home, the Wilsons. Cool people, you know, for foster parents."

"That's when you kinda…disappeared on me. I was pissed at you."

"I know…and I felt shitty about that, but the Wilsons, I mean they were cool and all that but they were way too religious for me. They put me in this morning program at their church…like a club I guess…every morning I had to go there like at 6:30 a.m. with all these other kids. Fuckin' insane, you know?"

Lauren put her finger in the air, noting, "But that sounds like what we do with our readings. You don't ever complain."

"No, Laur…it was way worse. I mean, here, we read all kinds of things… chapbooks by our people… the Bible…philosophy…you know…but with this morning thing, it was all _one_ thing so I made like a monkey and swung the hell away."

"Yeah…but…how'd you get here?"

Aaron sighed, looking serious, looking at his hands, "I stayed in our old campsites for a while, snaking what food I could get off from other hikers, families up for the day, stole money…you remember the routine. I just extended our usual shit for a long time. I couldn't risk contacting you, Jed…I couldn't risk getting caught. Then a storm hit…I mean it was COLD."

Everyone was listening to him, eating, drinking. The morning was warming up.

"I took cover at the Drake campsite…you remember the one with the cool tree house?"

Jed smiled, "Man…do I remember that tree house."

Aaron wagged his eyebrows, "Anyway, I was hoping to get some sympathy from other campers there, maybe crash in their trailer, but there was like nobody around…'course not. It was November. I got real scared, man, 'cause I wasn't going back to Fayetteville…I'd rather fuckin' freeze than see another foster home or…see dad drunk off his ass another day." He nodded, squinting as he glanced around the area they were in. He grew quiet…continued.

"I set up my tent outside. You know, like as a flag or something…just in case. I put my student i.d. in my pocket. Got into the bathroom with my sleeping bag…put on everything I owned. Every shirt, sweater…hat…socks…put on my boots. I said a prayer, asked the good Lord to keep me alive just one more night. Just…one more night. I promised I'd do something else the next day. Go to the big city. I'd get off the mountain. I promised. I prayed."

He raised his eyes and smiled at his listeners. "Then I died."

They all popped back, their eyes big.

Jedediah asked, "What? What do you mean?"

"I mean…I died. I saw the light...saw a long tunnel…saw myself in the bathroom, from above. My body was icy, like, like literally, snow on me. I wasn't breathing, I could see everything. I was fuckin' _dead_."

The three all said at the same time, "Then what happened?"

"Then suddenly I wasn't dead. I was HUGELY alive and in the worst shittin' pain! I was being held by this lady," he turned and said to Lauren, "You know, Old Auntie Christine, and she was rubbing my arms hard as hell and talking to me and we were covered in the hottest blankets…and people were around and…well, I was in Destiny." Quoting from his childhood, he nodded wisely, adding, "First, I was lost, then I was found."

The girls cracked up, but Jedediah, he just sighed.

"Wow," he said. After a second or two, he looked at Aaron with a whole lot of sadness in his eyes. "I don't know that I ever would have known something happened to you, dude."

Aaron punched him in the arm, "Sure you would have. You'd have read my obituary: Foster Kid Dies in Camp Bathroom Surrounded by Empty Bags of Dorritos. You totally would have known it was me!"

They all laughed, noisily, happily. As carefree as little kids. Accusing Aaron of making the whole thing up which he denied and denied, swearing on his very own life. May lightning come strike him down if he was lying. When they finished their breakfast, they all lay down on the blanket, staring at the clouds. Their heads close together.

"You wanna stay here, Jed?" Aaron asked. "Man, I'd be jumpin' if you did."

"I don't know. So much shit going on."

"Nah…fuck it. That world don't need you – you're too good for it."

"I'm looking for my mom, Aaron."

"Your mom…she's dead, man, what are you talkin' about?"

"I heard something…witnesses…something wasn't right. I think she's alive. There's this story about a lady named Miracle…and—"

Aaron sat up fast. "Miracle?"

"Miracle…some stupid ass story. I don't know, I keep thinking it's Mimi…but…"

He suddenly noticed that all three were sitting up and staring at him.

"What?"

"There's someone here we call Miracle. She is kinda miraculous," Gretal said. "Saved from the river. By Ferris." She'd whispered the last.

Jed sat up, too. "Have I seen her?"

Aaron shook his head, "I haven't, not for a few days, so I doubt you did. She's kinda special here, married to Ferris. Real nice, real weird. I'm positive she's not your mom."

"You, you…you seen her, you know her? What does she look like?"

Aaron shrugged, biting his lip. Oddly, it was as if he knew more than he was saying.

Jed glared at him, "Aaron?"

"Look, she's weird. Off limits. No discussion allowed. She hides. A lot. Rarely seen. Get my drift?"

"No, I don't. What does she look like? You know what Mimi looked like…I showed you pictures…you know what she looked like!" Jed started to get angry.

"What…what…I don't remember…Miracle is a lady. Long hair, reddish…maybe brown. I don't know."

Just as Jedediah contemplated a quick wrap-around of Aaron's throat with his hands, Jed heard his name being called. Sounded like Todd. Exactly like him. And when the recognition hit, something came over Jed, something that felt like…desolation, darkness, like a cloud of airless, soul-sucking, black doom. He twisted his head towards the voice and grabbed the shotgun.

Gretal reached for Jed's arm, smiling weakly, "Hey… it's alright… it's gotta be one of our people."

"I'd get the hell out of here if I were you," Jed hissed.

She got to her feet, Lauren getting up with her, looking in the direction of the person who seemed to have spooked Jed so badly.

"Jed, that you?" Todd was walking along a path, getting closer.

"He was the one who checked up on you yesterday, who came to Destiny with you," Lauren said in a soft voice.

"He seemed nice," Gretal added in a softer voice still.

"You don't have any fuckin' idea," Jed whispered.

"Hey!" Todd called out another time, closer still.

Aaron looked at his friend, "You haven't told me any of this, dude."

"Nope," Jed answered, not moving his eyes from Todd. He didn't know why he felt so bad suddenly, so…scared, hopeless. So many things were jumbling, stirring, bubbling. Maybe, seeing Todd meant going back to Llanview and the police. Maybe Jed was afraid to really remember what happened with Phillip. Maybe he was afraid to trust Todd, afraid of his falling "off the wagon." Maybe he was remembering too much and it was all a bit too ugly and violent...and vile. Maybe he just downright hated Todd now. Maybe dreams were more real than not.

Jed got to his feet, the shotgun hanging loosely in his hand, lying alongside his leg. Aaron stood next to him. The girls turned and ran up the hill.

Todd watched the girls run past him and he was confused a moment, curious. But then he turned and got close enough to see the gun and slowed his approach.

"Hey there, kid. What are you up to?" The quiet was disconcerting and Todd felt his mouth dry up, felt his gut tighten. "Jed?"

"Nothing to say."

"We have a lot to say…there's a lot to talk about." A perplexed expression crossed Todd's features.

"Talk, talk, talk," Jed said, wanting Todd gone. Just….

 _Gone._

It would be one less problem. Maybe the cops would even thank Jed. Yeah, maybe he'd get a fucking medal.

He swallowed hard and just like that, dead-aimed the shotgun at Todd.

Jed curled his finger around the trigger. Said in the coldest voice he could muster, "You're bad for me, _Daddy._ "

Todd had always thought of himself as rather heartless. Not anymore because his heart was pounding so hard he thought the thing would fly out his mouth and onto the ground. He was breathing fast. Shit had just gone critical.

"What did I do, Jed?"

"You tell me."

"Aww come on! I've had a long goddamn night…I've broken my curfew…" He sort of laughed, "Hey…I missed those werewolf meds…come on, kiddo…I can't take cryptic today."

"I hate you. Stay the fuck away from me."

Todd closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, almost laughing at how many people wanted him dead. If Jed wasn't his son, if his son's pain wasn't so damn raw, he would have laughed out loud.

"Jedediah Chant, put the gun down and talk to me, please. I'm not going to hurt you. I vowed never to hurt you ever again. I love you, more than I thought possible."

Jed laughed…a barking laugh, a mean one. "Give me a fuckin' break."

"Come ON…please. I know you're angry…I know you're disappointed in me... I know I wasn't what you expected. But I'm working on being someone different, or…I'm working on being…I'm trying…"

Jedediah started shaking, "What did you do to me there…in that basement with Phillip …what did you really do to me?"

* * *

Téa shivered as she munched on a piece of bread, still laughing over Todd's note. She had visions of Edric peeping through a window of his cabin. Ridiculous. Granted, he'd love to see her now, completely naked following the fast, freezing shower. Chuckling again, she dressed as quickly as she could before she died from exposure.

She'd been disappointed when she woke up and found Todd gone. She worried and had gotten up from the makeshift bed, hoping he was just hiding in the shack someplace. Right away, she spied the breakfast and the note. And the gun. She slid the weapon off the paper and smiled when she read his words. It had been so long since she'd seen his handwriting, and he sounded so much like himself, that she touched the paper to her cheek…ridiculous, she thought.

As soon as she was dressed, she stepped outside, planning on getting to Todd and Jed, hoping to help them out because she was pretty sure their meeting might be…intense. What welcomed her wasn't what she expected.

* * *

An intense grief from the depths of him swept upwards like an ocean's wave on a quiet beach, making Todd catch his breath and look at the barrel of the gun in Jed's hands. The trees, the surrounding prettiness, the clouds, the blue of the sky, all seemed to fade away and he thought maybe he was in hell again where there was no way out, where there was only dirt beneath his feet, and empty space, and memories of a little boy who couldn't escape hell.

The accusation was the worst gut-punch he had ever known.

He focused on Jedediah with his cheek pressed against the butt of the rifle, his chestnut hair falling along the side of his face, his thin body…still growing. He had a whole life ahead of him and here he was, aiming that 12-gauge shorty at his own father. Poetic, really. A kind of turn-around, fair-play. Didn't Satan say his child would hate him? Didn't Satan say that he'd rape his own child?

"Answer me! What did you do to me down there?!"

Todd smiled at his only son and said softly, "I saved your life."

"No, no…there was more…there was a lot more…something else... and you know what that is."

Jedediah didn't notice that the girls had run like hell. Their footfalls only echoed for the shortest of times. And now it was dead quiet. Aaron was still at Jed's side, trying to talk to him, trying to get him to put the gun down, but his words fell away.

"Phillip asked you to do something to me. I remember that. He said he was-" Jedediah swallowed hard, sniffed, trying to shake away the hurt at finally admitting what was making him suffer so. "He said he was saving me for _you_. And I dream of it now. I can see it. I can _feel_ it."

The ocean that Todd saw around himself licked at the shores of his mind, calm, salty, welcoming. He exhaled harshly and looked to his side, looked at the horizon, and gazed back at his child. He wasn't sure he was breathing anymore. He wondered if his heart had abandoned ship, finally. He knew his mind did…'cause Peter's voice rattled to life and so did Phillip's. Twin energies whirled around him, kicking up like wind. There was more too, things he couldn't remember. More horror house hell hidden in cloudy white that he knew to the depth of him would show themselves one day.

"Talk to me, Daddy," Jed said softly, tearfully now. "Tell me what you did…to me."

Todd stepped forward, almost in a state of hypnosis. He didn't hear Jed warn him and when he got close enough, close enough to see the gun's details, the blackness of the barrels, Jed's finger moving further across the trigger, curving at his first knuckle, his knees gave out and he collapsed onto them, looking upwards at that weapon.

"I wanted this for so long, as long as I can remember, Jed, I wanted someone to kill me. I'm glad it's gonna be you. It's proper, it's right."

"Fuck you."

"Pull the trigger, my beloved son," Todd whispered, the expression changing to a darker one, a colder one, the edges of Satan showing up in his eyes, in the way his mouth ever so slightly lifted as if to show canine teeth.

"My boy, my precious boy, pull... the trigger."

Jedediah shook hard, sweat rolling down his cheek, his shirt sticking to him. He'd been dreaming for weeks now of being raped by Todd, the dreams getting more and more detailed as time moved along. He hadn't known where the images had come from, but they were vivid and felt real as hell. He thought for a while that perhaps he was simply putting himself in Todd's shoes, maybe trying to understand or…maybe he was just scared that such an awful thing could happen to anybody. But then, a cloud started to lift about the killing and he could hear Phillip, clear as a bell, saying, " _If you want him to live to see another day, you need to do to him … what your father did to you. So get on with it. I want to see a whole new world open up for you."_

"Did you do it, Todd? Didja? To save my _life?_ "

The more distant Todd grew, the more horrified Jedediah got and the more afraid he became of the truth.

Jedediah started to cry, "Pops? Did you do it? Did you do what he wanted you to do? Did your rape me?"

" _You just sleep, okay? You think angels and planes and freedom … you dream your dreams. Float like that … live like that. This ain't nothin', it's not real, Jed."_

Todd whispered the same words as before, pleading now, "Pull the trigger, Jedediah, because there isn't anything left on this earth for me if you believe I did that to you."

See, to him, if Jedediah believed the illusion, there was no point in taking another breath because it was his fault Jed had been taken by Phillip, his fault the child had ever been born…his fault that he now had to live with these most horrific, most nightmarish, of visions, even if they were a figment of his corrupted memory. Todd was still responsible for the nightmare.

Groaning, Jedediah said, "Oh god…"

"Come on, Jed," Todd growled, his eyes darker than Jed ever remembered, "Be a bigger man than I ever could be with my father. _Kill me. KILL ME! DO IT!_ "

It was then that a woman's voice fell on Jedediah, along with a soft touch on his shoulder, the voice asking in the softest of voices, "He couldn't have done it to you, my sweet angel."

Jed didn't recognize the voice of Todd's own woodsy spirit who kept him going through his darkest times, he didn't recognize Michelle. Didn't hear Aaron say, "Miracle…"

Shifting his weight, adjusting the rifle, tears ran down his face, now, "I heard him…I heard him telling me it was all a dream, but the joke's on him, you know? Because the dream…the dream was real. I felt him on me, I could feel him…"

"Put the gun down, my Jedediah, my baby, put it down. He's paid so much for his wrongs…he pays and pays…and it's such an endless debt. Don't make him pay for something I know in my heart he did not do."

"He's changed…and how would you know anyway that he didn't...you must not know him very well."

"Because to rape you wouldn't have been saving your life at all. He would have been killing you in his eyes. He wouldn't have let you live through something like that. Had he really no choice, he'd have killed you _and_ himself. Neither of you would be here."

Jedediah squeezed shut his eyes and fought a sob. It was so real, it had _been_ so real. His mind raced through what he remembered, from the time he was alone with Phillip, through the time he woke up in that black space, tied up, the wet concrete beneath him so cold. There were things said and yelled and then he could feel Todd's warmth on him, the freeing of his wrists. He could feel him, his breath against him as he told him it was all a dream.

"Phillip drugged you, Jed," Téa said, slightly breathless, the only voice to get Todd to turn. She'd just opened the door to Edric's shack when the girls reached the camp, yelling to anyone who would listen about what was happening in the canyon. Téa panicked, not sure where this place was, but a woman with this wild red hair, hair that went well below her waist, grabbed her hand and said, "I know where it is, I know who you are. Come with me."

Ferris was there, too…he'd told everyone else to stay put. He was quiet now, taking Aaron out of the mix, pulling him back.

"Jed," Téa went on, "The things you heard, the things you remember, will be severely affected by those drugs you were on. You can't trust your memory. It's not accurate."

"I know what I heard!"

Téa's voice shook Todd and he was looking at her now, drifting a little, still…simmering. She saw that and said, "Todd, you have to talk to him. You have to tell him what happened. You will not let this child kill you thinking you raped him. I will NEVER forgive you otherwise."

"I'm so tired, Téa," he answered after a moment or two. "Phillip and Peter both are probably laughing now. Peter told me this would happen…that I'd hurt my child this way…he told me while I was in the hospital…I remember it." He took a breath and redirected his eyes to Jedediah. "Come on now, get it over with. _Please, please, please,_ under this fine blue sky, in this part of hell, pull the _fuckin'_ trigger already…"

Téa dropped down, kneeling to his level, "No! Todd…god damn you…you don't want to die anymore! You have far too many promises to keep! To me, to Jed, to Starr, to Viki…to yourself!" At that, she turned to Jed. "And YOU, god damn it! Put that gun down! My god!"

Michelle could see that Jed was tiring too, which meant the situation was at a crisis. One slip of Jed's finger and it would all be over. She only wished Todd hadn't had such a death wish.

"Baby, look at me. Look at me, my darling boy, my sweetest angel…"

He didn't want to look because he didn't want to see any more of the unreal. It was all so confusing, these dreams which existed in between the imagined and the lived. He knew that voice now, he smelled her…the way a puppy smells its mother. He knew her, he did. The tears choked him.

And Michelle smiled… "Come on, you're not dreaming now, neither of us are. Look at me, look at me…"

His grasp on the gun weakened and he dared a peek to his side where the lady stood, where this voice from his past was coming to life. He shook his head at the sight of her…but he pulled back, re-tightened his grip, and bettered his aim.

"What about him, _Mimi_? You saw what his dad did…you think he deserves to live for doing the same thing to me? Even for one more minute? Huh?"

Todd looked across at Jed directly, now, away from the inviting barrel of the gun. He narrowed his eyes, tightened his jaw, his mind seeming to have recouped. He studied the sky for a bit too long and looked once more back at Jed. He sat back on his haunches and rubbed his face, quickly, resuming his gaze at Jed.

Michelle reached her hand to Jed's shoulder and he said softly, "Why shouldn't I kill you?"

Todd then said in a firm voice, "There are lots of reasons you could kill me, but raping you isn't one of them. I didn't do that, Jedediah. _That_ was Phillip's sickest, darkest, most evil hope. And I took advantage of his…fantasy. I made him think I was gonna do it so he could get close to me. I said he could touch me while I did it and that worked like a fuckin' charm. He got…real close…when I said that. Then I said I needed to hold you down by your wrists, that I needed you free from those cuffs 'cause my dick doesn't work unless I hold the bitch down with my own hands. Which he bought, the sick _fuck_ …so I undid you with his permission. And while he was all hot and bothered, getting ready for a real party, I freed you…so I could take those leather cuffs…and bash his head in with them. Which I _did_."

Todd chuckled, a low, rolling laugh that came from somewhere deep inside him, from someplace never to be seen by the light of day.

"I shocked him but good. He fell when I hit him…and that's when I took the cuff and wrapped it around his neck and strangled the shit out of him. He was tough though, I didn't have it quite in me to finish it. The fucker just wouldn't die, you know? Kept fighting, kept pushing against me. I couldn't get the fuckin' leverage! I wasn't strong enough, the floor was too wet, and I was fucked up just enough on that one last shot of dope. So Brandy…she used her knife and ended it. Remember that? You remember. I know you do."

By this time, Jedediah had put the gun down. He knew the story was true, he knew Todd would tell the truth. Because he never did lie. Not once did he ever lie to Jed about the bad things he did. Ferris took the gun and Michelle put her hands loosely around Jed, who let fat tears roll down his cheeks.

Téa reached for Todd's hand, touching the paw of a werewolf, "That was self-defense. You had to kill him. He meant to kill both of you, all of you. You had no choice."

"Didn't I?"

"No," Ferris said. "It was a damn good kill."

Michelle nodded and Todd looked over at Téa who knitted her lips together to prevent a stress laugh. Todd coughed to cover a laugh as well, Ferris's words hitting them both as funny. They recovered, barely, finding they had to avoid each other's gaze for the moment.

Jedediah couldn't stop looking at Michelle and finally said, "I knew you were alive."

She got teary and said, "I'm so sorry that it's been this long. As long as Phillip was living, nobody could know about me. I thought it would protect you…I'm sorry it wasn't good enough. The bastard."

Jed choked up again and buried his head in Michelle's neck and they held onto each other for dear life. Tight, tight, tight.

Todd eyed the gun in Ferris's hand and was sorry…because he wasn't sure if Jed would ever really believe nothing happened to him. But he squelched the thought. Buried it. Like Téa said, he had too many promises to keep right now, yeah?

On the way back, Jed walked slowly so he could talk to Todd, a little more reasonably this time.

"So it's just a dream, then?"

"A really bad one. I'd never hurt you like that…Jesus Christ…no. Michelle was right." He reached out and touched Jed's head, lightly, whispered, "If Phillip hadn't made it so easy to get out of, if I had no choice, Jed, I'd have killed both of us first."

Jed nodded his head and said simply, "We have a long way to go before we get home."

"Yeah…"

 **To be continued...**


	21. Chapter 21

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 21**

Two paths lay before Todd and Téa, the proverbial fork in the road. In this case, they were less on a road and more on a mountainous path in the hills of West Virginia, coming down from Destiny, a well-hidden, right-wing militia camp that happened to house some _fascinating_ people. Including, especially, Michelle Chant. Mystery solved. She was alive and well… and…

Stepping left would take Todd through Fayetteville and onto the grounds of Granite House. Stepping to the right led to Téa's rented cabin where he could put off the immediate future, where he could lay some more in her arms this very night…where he could be in a kind of heaven he'd only just tasted. He wanted more of that, badly.

He didn't dare analyze further what was happening inside of him, right now, at the fork in the road, at yet another precipice in his life. He felt a decided unsteadiness. Tomorrow he'd be telling the truth to Bo Buchanan about Phillip Manning. What awaited him beyond the confession was unknown.

He supposed, then, confessing was a third direction, neither right nor left, but he didn't know where it would lead, not yet.

Téa held Todd's hand in hers and glanced back at the pack of Destiny citizens who'd accompanied them down the mountain. Jed's miraculously-found mother, Michelle, and Ferris stood at the front, reminding Téa of an arrow formation, perfect for such a freedom-minded group. For reasons Téa couldn't discern, Todd had stopped at this fork, at this crossing. Unlike Todd who seemed to always look inward at stopping points, Téa first looked outwards.

What she'd noticed was that they'd been moving quickly and the closer they got to civilization, the more undecided Jed had become as to whether he wanted to go back to Destiny or stick out the next week or so with Téa at her cabin. She knew they'd be playing an agonizing waiting game, waiting for the fallout of Todd's truth-telling, and Jed would be out of his mind with stress. Would Bo be coming to him? Would they prosecute Jed for obstructing justice? Was Todd going to serve time? What about Téa? How was this going to work? What Jed would need, Téa couldn't provide: assurance, confidence, a real mother's love.

Then the inwardness hit…it always does. What about Brandy? How sacrificial would Todd be with regard to the murder? She was just as guilty as he was. Could Téa sit back and let him take the entire fall for _her_? And let's say he goes to prison…how would sobriety play out there? If he even survives Statesville's general population. Who…what… would he become, inside those walls?

What about me, "us," whatever little shred of "us" lives now?

 _Shhhhh…don't go there._

"Why are we stopping?" she asked. "Let's just get down there, get it over with."

Wearing a questioning expression, concern lacing the corners of his hazel eyes, Todd looked back at Jed. Without hesitation, Jed moved forward, knowing what he wanted, a decision made. He walked confidently, defiance marking his stride.

"I'm going back to Destiny," he said, "with Aaron and Mimi. I'll wait there, Pops."

"You don't trust me," Todd said, a smile playing on his lips, his words interlacing with Téa's inquiry.

"Jed, are you really sure about this?"

"I just found my mother, man, let me spend time with her." Michelle was in the background, hanging back—being held back, actually, her eyes wide, practically wringing her hands. Unbelievable luck, fate, had brought them together again. Really made no sense to be separated again. Ferris rested his arm on her shoulders, though, a naturally defensive stance but also one of an experienced leader. Clearly, he suggested Michelle not get involved at this point. Bitterness descended on Jed as he looked Todd right in the eyes. He wasn't going to pull any punches.

"You're right," he said, "I don't trust you no matter how pretty you clean up."

"You still think I—"

The sound of the New River intruded on the quiet, Todd's sentence unfinished, and the scent of water permeating the suddenly thick, darkening air. How long had the river's roar lived in Jed's head, how long had it signified Michelle's absence, an absence that seemed to have always been the center of his life? His search had led him back to her but also to so much more. Jed turned back and smiled at his mother. Her red hair flowed around her, the last of the sun creating unearthly highlights. She was the angel now, his "angel daddy" long dead.

"No," he countered, "I know you didn't rape me. I know that. What I don't trust is you staying sober, you doing whatever it takes to make things right. So I gotta take care of me…and Destiny seems safe."

In a strained, barely contained voice, Todd objected, "Your definition of safety…"

"Don't lecture me. You don't have any right to say shit to me."

Todd bit down on his teeth, grinding them. "Do what you want. We'll… _send for you._ " He couldn't keep the sarcasm out. He couldn't explain why he was angry, hurt even. Hell, yeah, he wasn't in any position to talk about what was safe. But Destiny scared him, for Jed. Those people, he thought, they could swallow him up.

 _Like the underworld can swallow me up._

Téa intervened, "I agree with him, Todd." She took a strengthening breath and he ran his hand through his shorn hair in a bit of frustration. "He should go back," she said. "He may not trust you, but I don't trust the system to act in his best interest even if you do everything right. I think Destiny is nicely under the radar. It kept Michelle safe for years against Phillip. I think it can handle Jed for a short while."

Todd shook his head and seemed to study the horizon, as if he had any decision to make on Jed's behalf. Truth was, the kid would do what he wanted.

"Fine…whatever."

He halfway reached for his son, a handshake maybe, a tug into a hug maybe. Jed looked at him and it was almost as if they'd never see each other again. Todd didn't give him the choice at that thought and pulled the boy tightly into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispered thickly, "Jesus, I'm so sorry for everything. I love you, I love you. Don't forget that. Stay safe, kiddo. Please. I'll come back for you. I will."

Jed found himself on the verge of tears, emotion welling up from a place he thought dry. Any words he spoke now, pithy or otherwise, would, could, dictate nothing. Something far bigger than him would be the thing to save Todd, the thing that would save all of them.

"Bye, Dad…just…bye."

Todd and Téa watched the group disappear into the woods once more. They waited until they couldn't see Destiny's citizens nor hear them. The sinking sun threatened to completely darken the last of the woods they were in.

"What's your choice, Todd?" Téa's voice cut through the quiet, stirring Todd, forcing him to turn to her. From this spot, they saw the cabin. Only a few feet to comfort, a little bit of safety.

"You go there," he said. "I'm going to Granite House."

"Why don't you stay until morning?"

He caressed her cheek with curled fingers, smiling at her, "Because I won't wanna leave, because I'll lose my nerve."

"I'll walk you to the door of Granite, catch a cab," she said.

"No," he said, "we're here. I'll make it there myself."

Téa's turn for truth. She had her own choice to make. Was she going to trust him to carry himself to Granite's door? In between here and there lay a world of hurt, hell's fire. She was sure of it.

"No…," she gasped voicelessly, the air sucked out of her, as she reached her arms around him, "No…Todd…"

"It's a trust thing, isn't it?"

"I don't trust fate."

He laughed and took her by her arms, making her let go of him so he could look her in her eyes. "I'll be fine. It's not that far. I can see the lights of Fayetteville and from there it's a hop, skip and a jump."

"Fate's a cruel bitch and she's breathing down our necks. I feel her."

A wind kicked up and he drew Téa close to him once more, finding refuge in her embrace. Did he trust himself, did he trust fate? He wanted nothing more than to go into that cabin but it would just put off the inevitable. He needed Granite, he decided. He needed the structure, the pills that would ease him down to earth again. He needed to be surrounded by possibility, by hope, by determination. With Téa, he'd convince her to enter his sleep-world, she would be his drug of choice, sex would be their mutual drug, this new heaven would make him weak in the face of the confession.

"I'll call Bo in the morning. In an hour and a half I'll be in bed at Granite. One step closer to the end of all o'this, yeah?"

She held his face in her cold hands and tightened her jaw, "I'll be at Granite at ten in the morning, not a minute later. Better yet, I'm calling them right now to be on a lookout for you. Everything will be fine."

He shut his eyes briefly, hearing her working to convince herself and it hurt, how weak her faith was. He didn't blame her, though. He kissed her, his tongue searching, reaching inside her, moving to the door of weakness.

He was trembling and she worried. "Please stay with me," she said.

"I'll be fine. It's right over there. Where the lights are." He took a breath…looked at her some more, said softly, "I love you, Delgado." With one last kiss, one last hug, he moved away from her and began heading down the hill, his steps sure-footed.

Téa turned, refusing to watch him descend into the small town of Fayetteville, city enough. A lagoon of danger seemed to lie between here…and there. She suppressed her tears and took a deep swig of cold air, bolstering her resolve. He'd be fine, she insisted, and she would be, too. They all would be. Next week, Jedediah could get enrolled in school locally, they'd wait for Todd to finish out his rehabilitation. The whole thing with the confession would be worked out. There was no way he'd pay for killing Phillip. With that out of the way, they'd start over. A new life. A family, with Michelle nearby or even having her stay with them for periods of time, long visits. Sure, Jed would love her to live here again, part time at least. She could become reacquainted with the real world. Yes, yes…they'd be fine. Bo would do the right thing.

Fate could be trusted.

She walked the few feet to the cabin, relieved for the porch light. A moth slapped wildly around the yellow light, hovering near a spider web. The key was under the mat, not a problem to find. She unlocked the door. Swung it open. She was so ready for a shower, bed, and prayer. The dark welcomed her.

Literally.

"Hello, Téa Delgado-Manning," Jack Neederman said, "I had a hell of a time finding you. Everyone said you were good…now I know you are. I'm here with arrest warrants for all of you, the whole kit and caboodle. Todd and his girlfriend are going to prison for murder, and you…well, you'll be disbarred and certainly serve some jail time for obstruction…maybe even accessory to murder. And Jedediah…he's almost 18, isn't he? I think we'll be able to get him tried as an adult for accessory as well…a little obstruction thrown in for good measure. Who knows? We might even get him a bunk with Daddy dearest."

Téa was frozen in place. She finally spat, "Bo won't let this happen, you bastard."

"Oh yeah…who do you think signed off on the warrants?"

No, she didn't trust the system, not fate…not one iota.

* * *

The bus stop bench in Fayetteville was unrelenting in its transferring cold right up through Brandy's ass. The coat she took from Viki's was barely enough to make a difference, the night air tearing through the wool as if she were in a sheer. She kept her eyes open, refusing to sleep, staring down the lonely road, towards the entrance of Granite House.

She'd made it all this way only to learn that Todd had gone missing. Missing! The people at the desk were kind to her, looking at her funny, asking her to stay a while but she wouldn't dare. Probably a trick they were playing on her. Probably a lure or somethin'.

Missing…who took him? Or maybe he was running like she was. Maybe he knew those folks back in Llanview were after them. Seemed that all the truth in the world didn't mean nothin'. No matter that Phillip Manning was the devil himself, no matter that it was self-defense like they say on those t.v. shows. According to the cops, Todd and Brandy were guilty of murder. 'Course, she wasn't surprised because never once in her life did the truth ever matter no how.

Brandy rubbed her covered arms and turned to look towards the lights of the small city. Hours she'd hid in the bushes until the Granite House van stopped passing by. Now she sat here on the bench, out in the open. She was going to wait. Something would happen. She'd see him. Something told her he was coming back.

On the other hand, maybe the cops would pick her up. She was tired. She really didn't have any place to go. Not without Todd.

* * *

Fayetteville seemed to have come alive after dark. Todd had never been down here at this hour before. By the time he got here, dark had fully descended.

The activity surprised him. He figured maybe it was some kind of spring or summer break already. He passed by quaint, stylish stores and even more stylish restaurants, the aroma waking his stomach. Too bad he didn't have a cent to his name. Pretty people passed him by and he knew they didn't notice him. He smiled at that…it wasn't all that long ago that he was stumbling down a main boulevard of Llanview, his heroin daze in full view to everyone, drawing stares and finger-pointing. He saw his own reflection in a window, seeing a fairly normal guy. His stride picked up.

Yeah…things were going to be alright. This had been the right decision. He'd get a lot of strength from Granite. The place would be the rock he needed. Téa gave him another kind of strength but also a certain bit of weakness. Love… made him weak.

He trudged on and the busyness of the town's main strip began to die down. The dark got a little heavier again. Soon the road thinned and he was on a two-car road, heading to the doors of Granite House. He couldn't help but smile at the "safety" of the place. He'd see all those people again, his friends. They'd be happy…he'd be happy, too.

Granite loomed large ahead of him. He could see the glow of the entrance lights in the distance, bright, promising. Oh so…promising. He about fell to his knees. His walk picked up speed. Almost there…his salvation…because so far, they'd saved him. He had a lot to work for: Téa, Jed, himself. Their future. Tomorrow would be fine. The confession was going to work out all in their favor. He had no doubts.

 _Yeah…_

As he hustled up the road, running practically, he caught sight of a huddled person on the last bus stop bench on the Granite House route. Looked like a girl...long, stringy black hair hanging about a thin body covered in an old wool coat…a raggedy-looking girl sat with her head on her knees, legs drawn up...

Something in his gut twitched when he took a step closer to her form, _just one step closer to salvation_ , and his mouth watered suddenly, more wetness made in the one glance at her than from any of the food scents in town. When she lifted her head and saw him, eye to eye, the twitch turned into a full-on ripping of his insides, making him grunt audibly.

He stopped dead in his tracks just as she recognized him and broke into a huge, toothy grin. "Baby…," she said under her breath. Couldn't even muster voice for her relief at seeing him.

She got up and ran, booking it the few yards to Todd, jumping at him. He instinctively grabbed onto her, holding her to him and burying his face in her neck, in her musty, street-smelling hair, the promise of bad, bad things in her grip. Another kind of salvation…the killing kind.

"Brandy," he whispered back. "Girl….god…god…no, no, no..."

He felt her weeping and he could only say one thing at the world-shattering lurch inside of him, at the need that awakened, acid-hot, burning him inside out, throughout his veins.

"Oh _fuck,"_ he groaned.

* * *

Neederman sat patiently, shaking his head at Téa in the background, saying in a gravelly voice, "I'm sure he's in the local jail already. Pack up your stuff."

"What do you mean he hasn't arrived?" Téa's voice grew shaky, her nerves rattled. She didn't know whether to be relieved Todd hadn't fallen into the cops' hands or sick at his once-again disappearing.

Gilbert Balsa at Granite sounded sad on the other end of the phone. "Just what I said. He isn't here. Way past when he should have come. Ever since you called, we've been waiting, man, we've all been waiting. Even sent a van out to look for him. But we got nothin'." Gilbert sighed heavily, right along with Téa's aching whimper.

"No, this can't be... there has to be a mistake."

"It's already lights out," he continued, "…I'm not hopeful about this. Seen it too often. I think he's gone."

"Why are you saying that? You sound so sure."

"A girl was here…didn't leave a name…asking for him. We tried to keep her but she left. Paranoid as all get out. But she fell off our radar, too."

 _Oh no, no, no, no…._

"What did she look like?" Téa closed her eyes, collapsing into her chair. She already knew who'd been to Granite. She was sick now, unable to really care that Jack was on his cell phone, furious.

"Petite," Gilbert said, "a bit haggard, lived a hard life, young though, kinda long black hair…"

 _Brandy._

Hardly able to process this new reality, the fact that Todd had clearly disappeared with Brandy… the thought choking her, Téa thanked Gilbert for his help and hung up the phone. Her mind stumbled through a list of possibilities, a list of what could be happening now, the obvious at the forefront. Todd was holed up, shooting up. But he had been so determined… so set. He was NOT going back to it, certainly not today, certainly not after last night or since the confrontation with Jed. No. She had to stop the panic. She had to THINK. He ran into Brandy… there was no way, this was about heroin. She was SURE of it. Okay, okay, calm… calm. She eyed Neederman, beside himself, bouncing with absolute rage.

Wait… let's think… okay…

She then smiled.

"He's gone," she said, "And without your main fall guy, you don't have anything."

* * *

The first thing out of Brandy's mouth after covering Todd with her delicate, fearful, damaged-goods kisses, was that the cops were bad, that they were out to get them.

Since she left, she said, since the cops had interrogated her, the Mole, Paulie, had let her know what was going down at Llanview P.D. He told her that Jack Neederman was on a rampage and had the full support of the FBI behind him, crippling Llanview P.D. in the case of Phillip and cutting off chances for Todd to work a deal. Paulie said he suspected Neederman was once on the payroll of Phillip Manning, there being no other explanation for him being so hard-up in getting his killer. Who wants to protect a murdering child-molester? Not even the FBI will go this far.

Todd didn't doubt her truth, not for an instant. For all the sleaze Paulie was, he did usually have a good feel for what was happening behind the scenes. So Todd figured they were all going to go down for the murder of Phillip – Brandy, Téa, Jed, and him. What to do stumped him. He needed time to think, time to negotiate a deal to insure he'd be the one to go down if anyone had to and that he'd be going down alone.

Next move then was to get the hell out of Dodge. Todd picked up Brandy's meager backpack, grabbed her hand in his, and started walking, never looking back at Granite House, not even to help silence the screams in his head to turn back. There wasn't any assurance that could quell his insides now.

After some quiet time, she said, "I got money, baby, everything to last us a few days…weeks even." She sniffed a little noisily, huffing at the hasty pace, trying to keep up with Todd. "Ain't got much of your stuff, didn't know what you'd want, how bad you'd want it. Didn't know nothin'. I just took what I had. We need more, well, I'll just have to get lookin'."

Her words gutted him. Mouth dried. Stomach and balls tightened. Todd stretched the muscles in his neck and he glanced at her briefly, "My… _stuff_?"

Before Brandy could answer, she grabbed him and pulled him into the bushes, the two falling hard on the cold ground but well hidden. A police car driving slow passing them by, spotlights aimed at the sides of the road, clearly on the hunt.

"Oh baby…they're lookin' for us, I jus' know it," Brandy croaked, the fear palpable.

He wasn't so sure she was wrong, but he tried to comfort her anyway.

 _My stuff. It's waiting._

"Hey, maybe not. It's not like we killed the President of the United States or something."

Brandy giggled, got shy, "I just knew you'd know what to do, baby."

"I'm not sure I do." They both crawled out of the bushes and started walking again. The cold air had gotten a little colder and they found themselves huddling against each other as they walked.

"My stuff?" he asked again, hoping she was talking a tee-shirt and socks. He might have jumped the gun. "What do you mean?"

"Yeah, baby, your stuff." She looked at him, innocently, with a hint of worry, "Your bag, your dope. I got a few days worth for you, just in case you wanted it. I love you, baby, I'll do anything for you, you know that."

They kept walking, Todd not responding. He let go of her hand, but Brandy didn't notice so much, continuing the easy, shivery stroll. He'd slowed down, his stomach lurching again, hovering between anger and gratefulness, ready to blow or break down. He broke into a sweat despite the cold.

"You got everything?" he asked, a few feet away from her. She'd relaxed.

"New needles, baby, you know, from the needle exchange. They were real nice. Some of the shit from Paulie, too, like you used to like. Couple of bags or so. Powder, cotton…everything. I didn't know, baby…I didn't want you unhappy, you know, looking for stuff."

Brandy slowed her pace when she realized Todd had completely stopped his walking and had hunched over, seemingly in pain, "You all right, baby?"

He glared at her, finally screaming, "Why did you do that to me?! Why would you bring that shit knowing I'm trying to get the fuck off it! What are you thinking?! You don't love me. You fuckin' hate me…" He stood back up and stalked over to her. "You hate me, you pathetic, useless bitch…"

His response took her by surprise and her hand flew to her mouth, shutting herself up, her other hand flying to her head to protect herself in case… _in case_ …and she muttered over and over into her hand, "No baby…I love you, I love you…I thought…you'd need it…and I do it all for you…"

But he didn't let go of her backpack and he didn't empty it out. He stared at her, the purest of hatred coming now, his whole body shaking with it. As always, she was everything he hated about himself. Whore, user, abuser, willing victim. He grabbed her hair and pulled her close to him, nose to nose, whispering, "I could kill you right now for this…it would be so easy…"

She looked at him with terrified eyes, terrified but willing, submissive. He knew she wouldn't fight him. He softened some at her vulnerability, at the thought of his many promises, at the feel of his bracelet and wedding ring, and pulled her into him, heaving with confusion, fear, and disgust.

Knowing he was completely and utterly out of control.

"I'm sorry….I'm sorry…," Brandy cried, falling onto him when he dragged her into the bushes to hide again from another passing car. They lay in the brush, messy now, muddy, Todd sinking into the hell that always lurked near him. He couldn't stop shaking, the thought of the drugs so near him, the thought of blowing everything all to shit, so…so nearby.

"It's okay, baby," Brandy said, holding Todd, starting to kiss him, licking his face like a cat, like the lowly, mangy cat she was. She repeatedly told him she loved him, touching him all over to show it, to make him feel good. Her tongue-washing of his exposed skin was weak effort at appeasement. He felt himself kiss-biting her back, driven by an unstoppable, dark wrongness, by the hatred that lived hard inside of him. He forced her down, opened her coat, and tore open her blouse, pushing it off her shoulders.

Brandy _was_ heroin, she smelled of it, tasted of it. If he couldn't get to the drug itself, if some sense of promises, hope, what-the-fuck-ever, stopped him, this was second best.

Roughly, he rubbed and pinched her small breasts until she cried in pain, his arousal intensifying. He didn't care about the cold rushing onto her, saying, "You used to like when I did this, right? You used to say that to me…" He pulled her jeans down, just enough, and while he held her tightly, till she could barely breathe, he shoved his fingers into her, wanting her to say to him it hurt her, demanding it, making sure she cried because it hurt so fucking much even though somewhere within him he knew her pain wasn't physical. He groaned in agony at his being unable to stop himself. He tried, god, he tried to gather himself, to stop the mania, tried to push himself off the railroad track to hell, but nothing he did worked. He rubbed his hardness against her body now, using her body.

Words were impossible for her. All she could choke out were strangled noises as she scraped against the wool coat, as she felt the icy ground beneath her hair and his weight on her chest, dry leaves and dirt a new end for her. "Todd, baby…," she cried, noisily, wetly. The cold air ran straight through her bones and she felt as close to dying as she'd ever felt. They didn't deserve anything better than this, they each believed. Fucking in the mud, on the side of the road…in the gutter, fucking up their lives. All that was left was death.

Finish it, she thought.

In his efforts to humiliate her for her cruelty to him, for her stupidity, he released her enough for her to tell him that she was his, for always, even for _that_ , "You do what you want…I'm here…I'm always here…you want me dead, baby…my life is yours to take…so go ahead, baby…take it…come on…"

"You're the one killing me, Brandy," he moaned, having lost himself in their usual shit, feeling again the lifelong misery in its full form, in the form that turned him into a slug that was only interested in being high, in living a life of near-comatose, medicated peacefulness. He was a slug who'd willingly die, a slug who'd take out everyone around him given the chance.

 _Everyone_.

Brandy tried to help him by unbuttoning his jeans and stroking him, by letting him get inside of her, by letting him grip her throat, his hand pulling at her hair until she felt strands pulling right out of her scalp. He rammed himself into her, violently, only he couldn't seem to come quick enough. All she managed was to work him into such a furious desperation that he couldn't stay inside of her, finishing off trapped between her hand and thigh, thrusting and groaning in a kind of feral anguish, finally… _finally_.

He never stopped saying, no, in his head, but he never stopped her or himself.

When he was finished, when that fucked-up come finally ended, he crawled away, pathetic, drained, feeling as inhuman as he'd ever felt in his life, moaning like a dying animal. Nothing left inside of him to even dose up to dull this sickening incident. He sat and held his head in his hands, not able to cry, not able to express the unbelievable pain slamming through his head, his body. He couldn't even identify what had happened, why it had happened. He could not fathom what he had just done to Brandy.

 _For what?_

At the sound and lights of a car, he straightened his clothes out, shakily smoothing his hair and his face, licking his hand to wash himself off. Another alley cat. He searched her backpack and found the stuff, caressing everything she had brought for him, the bits and pieces luminescent in the moon's rays. He thought about leaving it but didn't, packing it all inside her bag once more. He sat in the dirt a while longer, looking at the stars and talking to himself about his promises. Every so often, he'd look at the bag and think about how easy it would be. To use…to die…how easy it was to get here again. As if no time had passed since the last time he was here.

On his knees, he inched to Brandy who hadn't moved much as of yet, who still lay partially undressed in a fetal position, crying silently to herself, shaking from the cold. He rolled her gently onto her back and buttoned her blouse and jeans, buttoned her coat. Said, "I'm sorry."

"Ain't nothin' to be sorry about," she hoarsely whispered. She sat up slowly and adjusted herself, weakly picking the leaves out of her hair. The tears wouldn't stop.

"Please stop crying, Brandy," he said.

"I'm trying baby…I just need a bath is all…a nice, hot bath."

He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, saying sorry, over and over again, asking at last, "Let me warm you, okay?"

She nodded her head and looked at him, "There ain't no real warmth where we come from, huh?"

"No. This is as good as it gets."

She laughed a little and buried her head in him, waiting for a good moment to start walking again.

* * *

They eventually found an okay motel called the Oyster Pearl, about two miles out of Fayetteville, in the next town over. It was clean enough with a bathtub even, more than they thought was possible on the little money Brandy had.

While she bathed, Todd got out and found an all-night market where he bought them junk food, covering dinner, breakfast, and lunch, too. He bought the things Brandy liked, frozen waffles, some strawberries, a chocolate muffin, sandwich meats, some bread. He felt broken, destroyed, wondering if he'd crossed some line of demarcation, one where there was no crossing back over.

He got change and stopped at a payphone, had to be the last one in the world, to call Téa's cell. He dialed the numbers, wondering why he always wanted to talk to her when he screwed up. Except he kept getting the wrong number. On his last attempt, someone answered, someone he didn't know, and she said, "Hello?"

Nothing came out. His lips parted, but nothing would come. Words forms in his head… _it's me, I'm not okay, I fucked up real bad this time, help me_ …but they stopped in his throat. They filled his airway up and he thought they would split his head in two.

"Hello? Who is this?"

It wasn't Téa. He hung up the phone and walked the few blocks to the hotel. Brandy left the door unlocked for him. When he entered the room, he saw Brandy was sleeping in the single bed in the room. He curled up on the floor next to her, looking up at the ceiling.

He was dying.

After a while, she reached down and touched him, petted him. He didn't move. Just lay there. She stopped after a while and he could tell she'd gone back to sleep. He got up and crawled to unpack the backpack again. Looked at everything. The needles, the drugs. He stuck a finger in the packet and brought the powder to the tip of his tongue. The mere act got him itchy all over. One shot could take away the pain, one shot could erase the damage. He lay down next to the stuff, eyeing it, studying it. The shape of everything, the colors, the shadows they made in the dim light from the bathroom. He shook so hard he could hardly breathe.

 _Promises_.

He'd made so many of them. Over and over. Breaking them over and over. He reached up and pulled the telephone down off the nightstand. Dialed the number to Granite. Gilbert was on call and it was so good to hear his voice, "Granite House, we're here, we're awake, what can I do you for?"

"I need you to save my life."

"If you want to be saved, I'll do everything in my power to make it happen."

Todd chuckled a little, then his voice caught, and he just spoke the truth, "I'm dying– I got a bag of dope in front of me and I'm going to use it 'cause it's the only way out."

There was a small breath and a pause. Then, "Manning, where the hell are you?"

"Some motel."

"Tell me where so I can send someone to get you. Your woman called and we thought you were comin' home. We want you here. Don't disappoint us."

"I got someone with me. I can't leave her."

"You got Brandy with you?"

"How do you know about her?"

"I know everything about you, dude."

"She hates me, Gil, she brought me the shit…"

"Lots of reasons why she'd do it, but hate isn't one of them. Now…get rid of it."

"Can't. Tried. Still sittin' here."

"You're tough, man. You've been through a hell of a lot and still you walk tall. I'm right here with you. Take the bags and toss them in the john. Simple."

It _was_ simple. He sobbed on the phone, had to work hard to stop. After a moment or two, he put the phone down. He picked the bags up and walked into the bathroom. He stood for the longest time with them in his hand. Cried some more then didn't. He emptied them and flushed. Walked back into the room and curled up in the floor with the phone, the relief…unbelievable. Pulled Brandy's coat over him.

"Done?"

"Yeah," Todd said. "Why does it control me like that? Why do I not have control?"

"Complicated stuff, brother. The important thing is that it's gone, right?"

"Gone."

"Well done. Now…what's going on and start at the beginning."

* * *

Brandy woke up next to a shirtless Todd who was holding on to her tightly, sleeping deeply. She saw the phone on the floor, the drug paraphernalia out and she wondered if he'd dosed up. She checked him to make sure he was breathing normally and things looked okay, no new marks on him that she could see. The phone rang and Todd jerked awake. He was disoriented, instantly afraid, and Brandy sat still until he got his bearings, the phone ringing and ringing.

"It's okay," he muttered before picking it up. "Hello?"

"This is the manager. Be on the lookout man. Cops are right outside your door. The window in the bathroom is big enough for you guys to crawl out of."

He hung up the phone and collapsed back on the bed. It was over. No time for deals. He wasn't able to do anything for Brandy, for Jed…too damn late. He looked at Brandy and said, "I'm so sorry about everything. This wasn't what I meant to happen. I didn't pick this path, this…third fucking direction."

She smiled at him, not knowing what he was talking about, "You know, baby, I'm fine. I ain't mad at you…we both is jus' learning to get on, you know?"

"No, I don't know. This isn't fine, we're not fine…we can't be together…we can't. You gotta go back to Viki's, I'm gonna make sure I take the fall here for Phillip. And…and…I'm going to treat you like you should be treated. I'm never going to hurt you again, Brandy. Okay? Okay?"

There was something in his eyes that Brandy had never seen before and she dropped her head, rubbing her eyes. "I love you, you know. Like nothing I ever loved in my life."

"It's not love…you don't love me," he said, sorrow in his voice, near tears. "We got something else going on here…and…and it's bad okay? Don't be satisfied. You should want more than this." The tears came at last, running down his cheeks. "My Brandy-girl, you gotta understand. Please, baby, you just have to understand. You deserve everything, everything good."

"You see why I love you? You always make me feel like I mean something."

Just then the door got kicked in…kicked in hard…and police poured in, guns pointed at them, police screaming orders. Todd didn't put his hands up and the police got nervous, real nervous, screaming louder.

Brandy looked at him and smiled at him. There wasn't any way out of this. She couldn't go to jail…she couldn't stand by and watch Téa or Todd or that sweet kid go to jail either. Killing Phillip was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. There was a letter she'd written…she'd given it to Paulie. Things would be taken care of.

The tension in the room skyrocketed because neither Brandy nor Todd responded like they were supposed to.

"I love you, baby," she said to Todd, "Even if you don't love me the same way."

"Brandy…I do love you…you're my sister…my twin…we'll make it work. We'll fix what's wrong with us, okay?"

"They ain't no fixin' us."

The screams continued from outside the bubble they'd found themselves in, but they felt a kind of silence within them. A kind of understanding. Two nothings knew about this life, about what they were really good for. They knew the options.

The third direction. Neither left, nor right.

Brandy reached forward, Todd shaking his head, _no, no, no…not this way_ , she reached into the bag, the screams from the cops not really being heard by her, not acknowledged in any way, and she pulled out her protection.

A loaded 9MM, one Paulie had given her before she got to Viki's. She smiled at Todd, at his saying _no, no, no_ …, screaming _no, no, no,_ and stood up. Feet on the carpet.

"It's all right, baby," she said, black-brown eyes looking at him, dry as the desert, a kind of determination he'd not seen on her before. Not even in the dungeons of Llanview when she helped kill Phillip. The yells seemed to fade away as she pointed it dead straight at Jack Neederman who so wanted to be at the arrest, up close and personal…

...and pulled the trigger.

 _No, no, no…_

Todd had tried to put his hands out to protect her, unreasonably of course, and someone kicked the shit out of him to get him out of the way, making him fall like a ton of bricks on the carpet, a green, dingy carpet he'd remember later.

Blood splattered so far across the room from the bullets that he caught some of hers in his mouth. He caught a bullet, too, in his left hand. He remembered licking his lips and thinking how sweet her blood was, sweeter than his. How funny that all that salt made for something sweet…morphing into something metallic even. Like silver, like gold.

His mind kind of turned at that point and he heard his voice, deep and tattered, growling…inhuman. He'd been crawling to get to her, to get to what was left of his Johnny-girl, of his Brandy, his twin nothing. He remembered clawing and biting and punching and kicking until he was pinned down so tightly on that green, dingy carpet that he ate the threads, pulling them with his teeth, thinking some part of him could escape that way. All he heard was his own screaming and cussing and the revolting, cracking of his broken heart.

"He fought like a fuckin' bulldog," one of the cops said later, "Out of his fuckin' mind. Bashing that bloody, broken hand of his…never seen anything like it. How many men it take to get him down? Like he was on PCP…and yet, he was stone, cold sober."

The only one besides Brandy who didn't comment later was Jack Neederman. Because for all the shooting Brandy never did, she had damn good aim.

He was buried with full honors the following Saturday.

* * *

Téa sat quietly in the cemetery in front of Brandy's plot, thinking of what should be written on her headstone. There hadn't been anyone at the services except Viki and her and a lady from Social Services who'd known Brandy since she was first on the streets. Todd couldn't come. He was still in the prison hospital recovering from his injuries, mostly from the efforts at keeping him away from Brandy, besides his hand. The police told Bo, he was beside himself with grief, madness, and utterly unapproachable. All visitors to the prison were refused. Unfit, they declared him; he was two inches from being thrown into the psych section.

Téa didn't know all the details about the night, but she did know about the added drug charges for the paraphernalia, for resisting arrest, for assault on the police officers, etcetera, etcetera. The charges against her and Jed had been dropped. The letter from Brandy had made it to the authorities and when Todd came to himself again, things would be dealt with. Prison time was definitely not out of the question.

Bo Buchanan was on his side, though. That was a good thing. Jed was still in Destiny, another good thing. He was blissfully ignorant of what was happening here.

Things weren't quite over…yet.

Viki held Téa's hand, "Are you all right?"

"I worried for months about how he would react if he lost her. I think I'm seeing it. I think I've lost him for good."

"He might surprise us."

"I don't trust him."

Viki smiled gently, "I do. I'll trust him for you."

 **To be continued…..**


	22. Chapter 22

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 22**

A disjointed racket surrounded Todd like a cloud with him at its center. For endless hours he endured a stream of nonsensical talking, staccato questioning, disembodied screams, and the scraping of metal against metal. Unbalanced wheels squeaked in a maddening rhythm he worked to put together but couldn't. Noise meant to drive the fight out of him.

But it didn't work because whenever the faceless, nameless beings tried to spoon-feed him sweet, formless matter, he did whatever he could to fight them…he turned his head, clamped his mouth shut, pushed his tongue forward, the stuff dribbling down his chin, onto his chest.

They finally stopped trying to feed him.

The beings were angry and he liked that, the fight reminding him that as long as he was alive he'd reject it. And he needed to be reminded because when he stopped fighting, when he was left alone in the noisy space, he would remember that Brandy couldn't fight anymore. She was full of holes, blood spreading underneath his body, his mind sprayed across block walls.

He felt himself getting washed without regard to his wounds or modesty. He pushed past the deadness and squirmed, twisted against the restraints, purposely pissing, shitting, puking, anything, to fight the motherfuckers. To show them they weren't going to save him. They killed Brandy…he was NOT going abandon her to the permanent sleep all by herself.

They finally stopped trying to wash him.

Whenever he was moved, pain in his hand shot through him like lightning, making his body jump then curl up like a pill bug. He fought them by stiffening up, getting them to get close to him so he could head-butt them, or bite them, or scratch them, anything to fight them off. They were murderers and he wasn't going to let them forget that.

They finally stopped trying to move him. They kept him in wrist restraints and slapped a mask on him instead.

He wasn't sure what was happening to him, couldn't gather any definitive information, couldn't reach out beyond the fight. He knew he was drugged but not in any way he liked or craved.

In the midst of all this… _warring_ …somehow he got the idea he was in a prison hospital. Maybe he heard someone say it. Maybe it was the familiar stink of the place. Or maybe it was because he just knew, knew it in the way a person knows one plus one equals two but that two nothings put together equal nothing. Maybe he followed through on his knowledge that Brandy was dead. That outta nowhere in that motel room she pulled a gun on the cops and they shot her all the fuck up. _A loaded gun._ For all he seemed to know…how had he not known she had a gun on her? He'd gone through her bag…twice.

Didn't see the piece 'cause he saw only what he wanted to see. _Junk. Needles. Latex strap. Junk. Needles. Latex strap._

 _Do me up, baby. Love me._

Junk.

Needles.

Latex strap.

 _Where's that vein?_

He remembered being booked afterwards in the Fayetteville jail, standing near naked in front of a camera with outstretched arms so his tattoos could be recorded, shivering with pain. He could still taste the metallic-sweet-salt of Brandy's blood and remembered how it stuck to his tongue when he sucker-punched a bad-mouthing cop. Everything went black after that and he woke up here, in the fog. He was alive, unlike Brandy who was dead, dead, dead.

 _Mostly dead._

'Cause sometimes people live way beyond their actual death, like Peter, like his mother. The way Michelle lived for Jed.

 _What you want, baby?_

 _You tell me._

Over and over he saw her killing in this violent, half-sleep of his, recalling his belief that he could stop the bullets with his body or his hands like _Superman_. Didn't even know he was shot until he got to the jail. Found himself worrying that Viki maybe threw away Brandy's pretty things. Worried that Brandy was cold, lying in a grave with worms and bugs crawling through the holes in her body. Worried she felt lonely there in the dirt. Wishing like hell he was lying beside her.

 _How the fuck could she do this to him?_

Sadness came over him in thinking of her, came out from the core of him, encircling him, and he sobbed, wailed even, except no tears ran down his face. On the outside he was stone-faced, stone-bodied. The knowledge of that stopped him _dead_ and set him to wondering why he was crying in the first place. 'Cause after all, more often than not, they'd each wanted to be dead. He should be happy that one of them got away.

Except the fight would rise in him and inside his head he yelled, screamed, railed against her. For dying. He cried because she left him to die alone without her. He cried because he was left holding the bag for Phillip's murder and now the other one, too, _the bitch_ , that fucking Neederman. He cried because she'd never get him dope again, she'd never bring him breakfast, she'd never cozy up with him when he was scared out of his mind to live even for one more second.

He cried because there wasn't anyone left who'd love him no matter how fucked up he was, how badly he fucked up, or how much he hurt them. He knew he could have killed Brandy himself and she'd still be there in spirit, grateful, accepting…

Which put him _smack_ in front of Téa.

Téa…the scent of her, her voice, her laugh, her delicate breathing when she slept, the harder breathing when he was all over her, inside of her. Her nails scratching his skin, her teeth on his shoulder, her mouth drawing blood to the surface. He'd betrayed his promise to her that he'd get to Granite, that he'd get to the other side…

 _Why did the chicken cross the road?_

 _To get to the other side! Hahaha hahaha whooooo!_

 _Laugh some more, laugh until you're bleeding out._

He failed her. Failed in a fireworks kinda way, blue and red and yellow explosions of light splashed across the night sky. He failed Téa and Jed and all those promises he'd been making.

 _Trust me._

He turned his head and rubbed against the softness of the pillow, thinking he'd suffocate himself. The mask prevented him from doing that. But sometimes they removed the mask. And he tried it again. He pressed his face into the pillow until he shook with the need to breathe. He went with it, stayed with it. He couldn't breathe anymore. The black was coming. But then, without being able to control it, he whipped forward and took a yawning breath of the hospital's stench. He screamed like hell. Kicked and flailed and repeatedly smashed his head against that god forsaken pillow. His body wouldn't let him die. Fucking traitor. He fought until he was restrained again.

Still alive as fuck.

At some point the fog began to clear.

The hours were no longer endless. Time was defined by minutes…seconds. He saw barred, chalky windows, olive-green, concrete walls, other filled beds. Saw locked doors and police guards. Suddenly he was aware that a woman was speaking to him. Not entirely faceless. She removed the mask. They'd put it back on after he spit food. From far away, though not as far as before, he heard his own growled words, lucid and angry, "Get me the fuck outta here…"

Talking quickly, hushed, she said, "Mr. Manning, you have to refuse any and all medication. Instruct me not to give you any further doses."

He started shaking, ready to fight her, too, because who was she to interfere with his plan to reject life? He roared inside, geared up to kick her with newfound control, but something in her face made him think differently, that maybe he had to keep breathing, that maybe he needed to keep breathing.

Maybe there was hope for him.

He saw he was still in restraints, realized he had no clothes on. He shook the straps hard.

"No drugs," he said, just like she told him to, "no more drugs."

The plain face brightened, colored, her eyes becoming blue, her cheeks pinking, her hair going from grey to yellow. She grinned, reddish lips bearing a tiny mole at the corner of her mouth, and Todd held on to that smile, stretching his fingers towards her, wishing to touch her face to make sure she wasn't an illusion.

"I can no longer medicate you now that you have refused such medication while cognizant and calm. You're going to be okay. You're going to get help now. What else do you need?"

He shook his head and swam hard to get above the grey cloud of noise that kept pulling him inside, fought like hell to stay above the fog, to breathe and think. For that hope. What would he need? He'd need Téa…he always needed her when he was in trouble. Failing her or not, he needed her.

"My wife," he said thickly, hearing his own voice getting closer. "I need Téa Delgado."

"No…no…you're in jail…you need assistance…so the police can't question you any more…" She turned around quickly, as if looking out for someone, dabbing his face with a damp sponge. She dropped her voice.

"Tell me you want your _lawyer_ and I'll be forced to make sure one comes for you."

She began cleaning his chest, his arms, underneath his arms. He still hurt badly, his hand killing him, but it was good because his head was getting clearer with the pain, every shock seeming to push him further into the light of awareness. He could move more precisely, energy increasing with each painful shift of his body. She moved down his abdomen, moved to his genitals. He tried to grab her hand to stop her but he couldn't, his arms restricted by the wrist restraints, and she smiled.

"Tell me you want your lawyer, Mr. Manning."

She bent his leg so she could better reach and she ran the cloth over him and he tried to escape her touch but he couldn't. He felt the water on him, water running in between his legs and over all his parts, the wetness titillating, the cleansing motion of the sponge causing an erection, making him almost laugh because mother _fuck_ it felt good, and he swore that if she ran that sponge a little more on his balls and cock, not even directly, she didn't even have to fucking try and he'd come, come hard, and it was strangely wildly embarrassing. And he really wanted it.

 _Come on, come on… one more time, again, again… just touch it, do it, do it..._

Pain and goodness and water and death all mixed into a new kind of haze, one filled with... real… fucking life. He was so far from dead he wanted to laugh out loud. It was downright hysterical. He could not fucking believe that he survived that goddamn motel room. Fuckin' hell was fuckin' hilarious.

She turned and rinsed the sponge out, bringing fresh warm water down his legs to his feet. She looked him directly in the eyes.

"Scream what you want, Mr. Manning."

"I wanna lawyer," he said as loud as he could through gritted teeth, breathing hard, harder. Sounds came from other beds in the room, yells and catcalls. They all wanted this woman's kind of help. And then she did it, as if she knew. She ran that goddamn sponge over him one more time and his whole body jerked with a mad-intense orgasm, getting him to groan, "Oh fuck," as come pulsed onto his belly, hot, plentiful.

She threw a wet towel on his still hard cock and smiled, straightening up, and announcing loudly, "So you don't want any more medication and you're demanding a lawyer."

"Yeah…," he huffed, shuddering, recovering from the unintentional come, "Yeah."

 _Keep breathing. Just for one more minute. And one more after that. Dying to live._

At that, someone else stormed into the picture, a man whose wrinkles ran deep in ruddy, pock-marked skin and whose body made a lot of noise, the sounds of weaponry on a belt, a man demanding explanation. The no-longer-faceless or colorless woman put the sponge back into a pan on a table and covered him with a sheet, tucking in the sides. She grabbed a clipboard with papers on it. Todd followed the clipboard as it moved from hand to hand. He moved in the bed, stretching past the hurt, feeling his toes, soles of his feet, calves, thighs, ass, back, arms, shoulders back on down to his fingertips. He was alive, feeling everything. Saw everything. Ran his tongue over his dry lips. Fought laughs, weed sorta laughs, nitrous oxide sorta laughs.

He then heard the cop growl, "Wait, you're not regular medical. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm a Prisoner's Advocate investigating the delayed transfer of Mr. Manning at the request of Pennsylvania's District Attorney's office. I'm like a secret shopper. This man is refusing medication and demanding a lawyer. I'm a witness to his demands as are all the other men in this room. As such, in light of the denial of his civil rights, it's my duty and obligation to stay with Mr. Manning until the law is properly and fully complied with."

The man leaned in close to Todd, grabbing his cheeks, forcing him to look at him. "That true? You wanna _lawyer_? Lemme hear you say it, junkie!"

The woman stood and demanded, no, she screamed at the guy and tried to move his immoveable forearm but the guy refused to let go. The pain he caused was catalytic though, a spark set to gasoline. Todd writhed on the bed, working to kick away the sheet, jerking his leg until it was free, and once it was, he kicked the old cop solidly in his side, the man falling back, just enough to let Todd kick him again in the head. He kept trying to kick more, stopping only when he felt a pistol shoved into his mouth, black steel crashing into his teeth.

"I will shoot, Mr. Manning, and there isn't a judge in this world that'll convict me for it."

The noise level in the room shot up at that, the fight the best thing the sick room had seen in weeks. Guards flooded the room to calm the other patients, not many any real threat. One undid Todd's wrist straps and yanked him off the bed onto the floor, onto his stomach. His arms got pulled back hard, handcuffs slammed on his wrists, the pain in his hand electric and mind-numbing. Todd laughed wildly at the rush of wakefulness he felt, finally screaming, "I want my lawyer! Gimme my lawyer you fucking bastards!"

He couldn't stop laughing and cursing and flailing in the hard grip of the cops, Brandy's coldness and sadness and hatred and helplessness fueling the fight in him for everything they never had.

Oh yeah…he was alive. Nothing he could do about it now.

The woman grinned as Todd was dragged towards the door, headed to a cell, naked and dripping with sweat and bath water and smeared semen. He stumbled and was jerked back to his feet only to fall again on purpose. The pock-marked man continued to rant at the fact the Prisoner's Advocate had gotten into his prison. He yelled out, "Get the son of a bitch his goddamn lawyer." He doubled back and grabbed the clipboard as the woman calmly readied the hospital bed with fresh dry sheets.

"Bring him back," she said. "He isn't well enough for a cell."

"Are you watching that asshole? LOOK!"

Todd was actively and wildly fighting the hold the guards had on him, not letting them get past the door, still yelling like a madman.

"He needs a bed," she said, "His hand is not healed. It looks infected to me. He could lose it if he's left untreated in a cell. You've had him for nearly two weeks. Gangrene is a real threat. The lawsuit for a lost hand would be crushing."

"Oh JESUS," the cop cursed, looking at the still-manic Todd at the door, pulling against three guards, in all directions. He was NOT going quietly.

"Bring him back! Goddamnit!"

In less than a minute he was there again, the advocate getting him in the bed, eyeing him, winking at him. The cop insisted on the wrist restraints and the advocate gave on that point, a negotiation. The woman checked his hand, telling him she was going to change the bandages.

When the fuming old cop left, the place calmed, and she said in a quiet voice, "It's all over, hon. Welcome back to earth."

 _What you want, baby?_

 _Everything._

* * *

Even though Todd's escapades usually sold papers, his more recent, repeated run-ins with the law made this long-awaited preliminary arraignment almost boring. Practically routine. The reporters were surprisingly few in number, his case number seven out of fifteen this morning, and Viki's presence was hardly noticed. She checked for Téa who said she'd be here.

"I'll be there with bells on," she had said without any emotion.

Par for the course. Viki couldn't get a handle on where Téa really was, how she was with everything. Her extreme calmness was unnerving.

Viki thought there had to be some relief – Brandy was no longer a temptation in Todd's life. There was certainly fear, too, being that Brandy's absence now confirmed to Todd that people like her and him had no other choice but to die. He could follow her. It was their great worry come to fruition. Téa had to be feeling these things.

She fiddled with the strap of her purse, watching the doors to the courtroom, waiting…waiting. Always waiting. She hadn't seen Todd yet. He had been transported directly from the West Virginia prison. His new lawyer met him there. Viki hadn't talked to him though she knew of him.

The doors at the back of the courtroom opened and Bo Buchanan emerged, walking to the front and chatting a minute with Hank Gannon who was the acting district attorney. When Bo turned and spotted Viki, he came to her, hugging her before sitting heavily. He seemed tired.

"Did you ever find out why it took so long for him to be arraigned?" Viki asked. "He's been there, what, three weeks?"

Sighing, he nodded, "West Virginia P.D. hoped to get some kind of confession from him, tying him down in red tape. They weren't kind to him, using his injury and mental state to keep him in the hospital, keep him sedated. No lawyer of course. God only knows what he said."

"We'll know soon enough."

"Probably payback for the death of the agent."

"Since when is torture part of our culture?"

"Don't yell at me – we were told he was uncooperative and refusing all help – we know now that wasn't accurate thanks to a Prisoner's Advocate who was moonlighting as a nurse. But he's got a lawyer now…good guy…George Strauss…things will go all right. Better, at least."

"He shouldn't be here at all."

"Now, Viki…let's not forget who this is. Manning always deserves to be here."

The room quieted as a few of the accused came in, dressed in orange jumpsuits and handcuffs. Chained together.

Téa slid in the row behind Viki, tapping her on the shoulder, smiling slightly and trying to look unconcerned. Viki held her hand, turning around in her seat. "Téa...I'm so glad you came."

"I made him a promise a long time ago. I would love him, I said. I would be here for him no matter what. So…I'm here." She said the warm words in a decidedly icy tone. Viki reached for Téa and Téa sighed, "Damn him."

The hour dragged on, bail requests being heard and denied or granted, one continuance asked for and granted, the calendar finally coming to number seven. The door opened at the side of the courtroom and a couple of photographers snapped some pictures before hurrying out of the court, disinterested, bailiffs chasing them out.

Flanked by guards, Todd came into the room in full shackles, dressed in the same regulation orange jumpsuit as the others, shuffling in an undignified way to the appropriate table.

At the sight of Todd, Téa found herself fighting an old instinct to yell at the judge, the district attorney, yell at anybody…so _damaged_ he appeared to be. Viki sighed heavily and Bo muttered, "Jesus CHRIST."

He sported the remnants of a blackened eye and a cut lip, the bandaging on his hand was ratty, and he had an unhealthy pallor. He looked exhausted, underfed. His expression made her sick. Téa trembled, reminded of the dark days, exactly so. She had prayed he'd be different. She almost cried for how he looked that day by the river. Skipping stones. Smiling into the sun. Whole, healthy, beautiful. So much _promise._

Like the sun itself.

 _Are you going after her, Todd, following her into hell? Jumping into that grave?_

The judge was one of the longer-serving members of the judiciary, having seen ages of Llanview history, his silver hair slicked back with half-moon glasses that perpetually looked as if they were about to fall off his nose.

He listed the state's criminal complaint against Todd, a hell of a roll call: murder in the first for Phillip Manning, murder in the first for Agent Neederman, accessory to murder, conspiracy to commit murder, obstruction of justice, possession of illegal substances, possession of drug paraphernalia, possession of an illegal weapon, arson, rape, assault and battery.

Téa shook her head, not understanding where the rape charge was coming from. She leaned forward and asked Bo, "Why rape? Where the hell did they get that from?"

Bo leaned back, "Theory that he's the mastermind behind Neederman's death so they're drawing certain…conclusions…based on the condition of Brandy."

"Condition…"

"Téa, it's garbage. Even I think so and you know I don't give him much benefit of the doubt."

 _Condition._

George Strauss looked crumpled as ever in his black suit and brown tie, his prematurely gray hair pulled into a long ponytail. While the judge was listing the counts, he leaned over several times and spoke to Todd who appeared to be listening carefully and responding with respectful nods, before turning to look back at the judge or the district attorney.

For all his wounds, for all the backstepping into hell, Téa couldn't help but notice how tall he stood despite the pull of the shackles, how seemingly firm on his feet. He held his head up. An illusion maybe…a trick of light maybe. A show to get bail perhaps.

The judge asked Todd if he waived his right to a preliminary hearing.

The courtroom hushed as he said in a soft voice, "No." The attorney patted Todd on the shoulder, assuredly. Téa had the feeling Todd might have wanted to waive the hearing, getting to his punishment quicker. She was grateful he had a lawyer to talk him out of it. They needed the preliminary hearing, they needed the state to show what they had to back these charges.

 _How sacrificial are you going to be for Brandy? How much are you going to honor her memory?_

The judge quickly set a date for the hearing, in twelve days time. "Let's talk about bail," the judge added. "Mr. District Attorney, are these murder charges capital offenses?"

Hank responded quickly, "No, your honor."

"Under the law then, he's entitled to bail. Any reason for me to deny it?"

Hank proceeded with what sounded to be a well-worn statement, "Yes, your honor. Defendant is a known drug addict who has yet to complete a rehab program, who has a known history of flight, and a long history of violence. With Mr. Manning, the question isn't whether he's going to flee but when. The question isn't whether he's going to commit a crime while waiting for trial but how serious a crime."

Todd jerked his head, stretching the tight muscles in his neck, clearly agitated. But he held it together, pulled himself away from making a stupid move. Téa couldn't see his face.

Strauss wasted no time in arguing the case. "Your honor, that is a gross mischaracterization of Mr. Manning meant to boost their already outrageous set of charges based on the flimsiest of evidence. Mr. Manning is committed to his sobriety, to his burgeoning company, and above all, to his family. He has a young son to protect from all this unpleasantness and the only way to protect him is by standing here and facing his accusers rather than by letting the boy get charged in his stead. Your honor, Mr. Manning is no flight risk nor is there any risk of re-offense. The crimes he's accused of today are unique to the circumstances at the time. We demand bail be set at a reasonable amount."

Strauss was getting excited now. The greater the challenge, the happier he was.

Hank responded in like, "Your honor, neither the presence of family nor a successful business has kept Mr. Manning off drugs or out of trouble so far. The state doesn't buy his newfound commitments. He remains a serious risk not only to himself but to the community."

"Mr. Manning was in rehabilitation at the time of his arrest and was a star pupil. He received nothing but laudatory comments from his peers and counselors. At the time of arrest, my client was sober. The state so far hasn't presented any credible evidence that Mr. Manning was in any way responsible for the death of Mr. Neederman. Re-offending isn't going to happen. Moreover, I submit that the state's wrongful treatment of Mr. Manning by allowing him to languish in a West Virginia prison hospital where he was severely abused prevents said state from objecting to reasonable bail. I further submit that reasonable bail is compensation for the criminal abuse he suffered at the state's hands. Unlawful incarceration, torture even, without the benefit of representation. Your honor, Mr. Manning isn't going anywhere. He's determined to fight the state every step of the way."

Hank objected, "That's way out of the scope of the bail discussion. There's no law saying bail can be treated as civil compensation."

"The constitution says every person has a right to due process and my client's due process was obliterated not only by Pennsylvania but by the federal government and the state of West Virginia. My client has been prejudiced by appearing in shackles in front of potential jurors in this courtroom and in the community. Granting bail will give him that due process that is coming to him. Denying bail…will only further deny him due process assured him under the United States Constitution."

The judge looked to be reviewing the file, finally directing his attention to Todd.

"Mr. Manning, what do you have to say for yourself?"

There was little hesitation, his voice still soft, still unrevealing. "I'm not gonna run. I'm staying to fight these charges, to protect my family."

"What about rehab? Where are you going to stay if I set bail? Staying alone is not an option for you."

"I'll stay wherever I have to. I have my sister. I'll stay with her...or whatever."

"You willing to enter a local drug program while you await the upcoming criminal proceedings?"

"Yes. Whatever I have to do to stay sober."

The judge shook his head, leaning back, listening to more argument by Hank and George. Finally, he stopped the lawyers and said to Todd, "The public might crucify me, but sir, I believe you. I trust you're not going to leave. I trust you're going to fight for your life. I also believe your lawyer that the prosecution might be inflating the charges."

The courtroom broke out into a buzz of conversation, Hank Gannon yelling, "Your Honor!" The noise grew until the judge rapped his gavel for quiet. He set the bail high but well within Todd's financial ability, adding, "Don't make me regret this."

At that, George leaned forward and said, "Very reasonable, thank you, Judge. Thank you for everything."

The judge finished his ruling, saying, "Mr. Manning will be remanded to Llanview County Jail from where he'll be released provided someone posts bail for him. Good luck, Mr. Manning. See you in twelve days." He then called the next case and Todd was led off, George promising he'd see him at the jailhouse to get him out.

 _He was free._

Téa sighed and Viki turned to her, looking worried. "Are you okay?"

"I'm feeling a little queasy."

* * *

Todd lit up a cigarette with a shaky hand, with help from his lawyer. The pain from the gunshot wound had intensified with the setting sun and he wished he had some real pain medication. No such luck though. He puffed on the unfiltered stick and looked across the Penthouse dining room table at Viki. She gazed back at him but he looked away.

He'd hardly said anything to her since she met him at the jail. He'd let her hug him, said he wanted to go home. He'd go to the hospital tomorrow to get his hand checked out. New bandaging. Maybe antibiotics. The pain wasn't too bad.

He had lied about the pain.

"Get me outta here," he had pleaded quietly, eyes on hers, Viki very much reminded of the days in the psych-ward. She'd nodded, saying, "Yes, yes." He didn't ask for Téa, Viki figuring he _couldn't_. Didn't dare.

She drove him to the Penthouse, knowing Téa wouldn't be there. Téa had left the courtroom, telling Viki she was going to Angel Square. She needed warmth. Viki felt like a tree losing her seedlings to the wind. They were scattered, out of her control. She was particularly saddened about Brandy, still. Her death would always be a pinprick in Viki's heart. She did worry for Todd. That he'd follow. She watched as he smoked his cigarette.

"The evidence is scanty at best," George said. "They got a knife with Brandy's partial print. They got evidence of arson. They got next to nothing that you were even there. And they're sure as hell not going to get anywhere with the death of Neederman. I'm quite confident we can get rid of these charges at the prelim."

"What about the drug charges?" Viki asked.

Todd grumbled, "I threw it all away."

"Well they have two packages," George snapped. "Here are the pictures. Look familiar?"

The photos showed two identical small balloons, white powder lying next them to show the contents, blue pen markings on the sides that read, "H.P."

"According to the W.V. cops, this is 'happy,' popular stuff in Fayetteville."

"That's not what Brandy brought me. She brought me the stuff I used before, in glassine bags. Not balloons. I've never seen that before."

Viki said gently, "You also say you didn't see the gun either. And she had it."

Bristling, Todd smashed the cigarette directly on the table, "Like I said, I never saw that shit before. It wasn't mine."

"Ms. Carpenter, in all honesty, it was probably planted – cops hate when all they can get is misdemeanor possession of drug paraphernalia."

She backed down, keeping her eyes on Todd, not liking this darker shift in his mood, not wanting to leave him alone. Not planning to.

They had talked about all the charges except one. The rape charge. George smiled compassionately, saying gently to Viki, "Do you think you can leave us alone for a moment? I need to talk to Todd as my client, in confidence."

"Absolutely, I'll go upstairs, relax in the study. You all right, sweetheart?"

Todd didn't answer, breaking out another cigarette. He glanced at his sister with a _what-do-you-think_ expression and she left at that. He breathed in the nicotine. Needed it. It wasn't nearly enough. He knew there was whiskey in the kitchen and he was tempted. While they had Chinese brought in for this little powwow, he hadn't touched a thing. The hunger in his belly wasn't a cry for _food_.

"About the rape charge...I'm going to be frank with you, Todd. There is something here."

Todd said nothing, keeping his eyes on the stairs, thinking about Brandy. Thinking she was dead. Tasting the Camel and wishing he could cry.

"I didn't rape her," he said after the quiet grew unsettling.

"She was injured – there was some tearing. Bruising. Bite marks. Trace semen inside of her, your DNA. You had severe scratches on your body that are evident in the booking shots and matching skin cells under her fingernails. Pretty straight story."

The shaking seemed to go beyond his hands and into his body, the pain of the wound turning hot. He was so tired. He was sick to his stomach. The smoke filled his lungs and he fantasized about Brandy's gun. He _could_ throw himself off the roof of this building. Plastic bag over his head. Tied with duct tape.

"Todd?"

"Look, you don't know…how…we were."

"Try me, son."

 _The pain is good…tells me I'm alive. Tells me I need to fight… to actually die. I need to really make a fucking effort if I want to end this nightmare._

 _What happened, Little One?_

 _Go away, go away._

His voice dropped to an almost imperceptible level, "I can't talk about it." He put the cigarette out, right next to the other one. A mound of ashes stared up at him.

 _Ashes to ashes._

"Tell me a little something. Give me one thing I can hang a defense on."

He could only shake his head, the words…stuck. He screwed up his mouth, blood he tasted. Hers. There was no defense.

"You know, I'm going to give you a couple of days. I know you're tired, hurt, I know that. We have twelve to work this out. You rest for now – you shouldn't be alone. I think this is a vulnerable time for you. Staying clean is paramount to your defense. You good?"

"I thought you were a lawyer not a shrink."

"Lawyers are sometimes both. So…are you good?"

Whiskey would make him…not good. "My sister is here."

"All right, then." He stood up, glanced up the stairs. "You've got a lot of support in her. Take care of yourself. I'll be back."

"Famous last words."

Todd managed to look him directly in the eyes.

"I mean it," George said. "I'm not going to let you twist in the wind, man."

The lawyer left Penthouse 2, leaving Todd with Viki upstairs. The quiet was as bad as the noise of the prison hospital. He got up and turned on the stereo, looking for music he could disappear into. Found old heavy metal cd's and popped them into the player to get them going, to get the rhythmic noise out. He held the speakers to feel the music and he played it loud, louder. He closed his eyes as he sat on the floor, the bass reverberating through the floor, right up through his spine. He was home. He was lost.

The fight seemed to have left him as he knew it would, come the quiet, come the aloneness.

 _Rape._

Is that what he did that night to his twin nothing? To his sister in hell? Had she actually fought him off? He didn't remember that. It was their usual shit, their usual fucking in the gutter of the world. Literally doing their shit on the side of the road. He hated her…he loved her…he was her, she was him. If there was rape…they'd raped each other.

Equal punishment.

He reached back and punched a hole in the speaker, again and again. Brandy was gone. Téa was gone. Jed was gone.

The fight seemed to have gone, too.

The tears began and then they wouldn't stop. They kept coming and coming. She was dead and so was he. What else was there? He held his head and moaned in sheer agony. Pain coming from everywhere, through him. He was pain.

 _Fight._

"Can't do it. Can't…can't…can't…"

He didn't know how much time passed in that state. But outta nowhere, there she was. Téa.

His Delgado.

She held him from behind, held him tight until he almost couldn't breathe. She squeezed him, trying to warm his freezing body.

"It's all right," she said, "It's okay. I promised you I'd always be here for you. I will never break that promise."

His body shook with the boundless sadness he felt, with the horror of what had happened, with the unbelievable loss he'd seen over the past year. With the soullessness. He walked through hell and had planned on staying there. He left his sister in the fire…he let her go without him.

How could he betray her that way?

It wasn't love. It was damnation that bound them. And hell's bindings seemed far stronger than any he'd ever known.

 _Fight._

The tears dried, the energy passed. He lay quiet with his head in Téa's lap as she caressed his hair that had grown some. Oh she was angry at him for leaving her that cold night on the hill. For not getting to the other side like he was supposed to. But like before…he wasn't ready for her to kick his ass.

She would. In time.

Viki had been sitting on the stairs watching, tearful for him. For them. For Brandy. That poor child had been lost, probably never had a chance. Todd did though. This was his chance. She prayed he'd make it. With a deep, cleansing breath, she got up and walked down the stairs, calling softly to Téa, "Do you need me to stay?"

Téa shook her head, no.

Her footsteps across the floor made Todd stop breathing so he could listen. His head turned slightly until the door closed shut and the quiet came again. He sighed, breathing evenly again. The music had long stopped. The lights of Llanview shined throughout the dim Penthouse. He turned and rubbed his cheek against Téa's clothed legs, feeling the roughness of wool.

Like a mangy, wrecked cat, he rubbed against her.

Despite the pain, because of the pain, he moved a little more, a little harder, and Téa shook her head… "Todd…," she breathed out.

He pressed against her some more, moving to her belly, reaching for her. Needing her. Shaking with pure want.

Téa tried to hold him back but there was no way, not with that brute strength of his. He crawled up on her, pushing her down on the floor, getting firmly on top of her. He placed himself in between her thighs, and moved in a way that her legs spread apart. He moved his hips and his erection hurt her bones, hurt her heart. She wasn't touching him anymore, her arms back, her head turned. He wasn't trying to kiss her, just rutting, grunting wordlessly on an unspoken chase.

"Todd…"

Touching her breast, squeezing it, he twisted the stiffened nipple through her blouse. The noise he made was animalistic. He moved harder, trying to unzip her pants, desperately, but then something came over him and he slowed his movements, pausing, slowly lifting his eyes to meet hers. Panting like he was running…running from something so terrifying...

Equally as breathless, she cupped his cheeks in her hands, "No."

His eyes were dark and wanting and hungry and scared. She didn't believe she was looking at love.

"I'm not your drug," she said, her voice unwavering, firm.

He looked away from her and dropped a little, curling up next to her, breaths still fast. The tears started again and he shivered and breathed out. "Téa, I'm sorry…I'm so…so…sorry…"

"I know you are. I know."

The breaths caught and then didn't. He knew he'd learned to use sex in a way to replace other wants. He knew it was wrong. Maybe he wanted to chase her away. Maybe he wanted permission for the quiet to come…for the deadness to come back. Maybe he wanted to be with Brandy, next to her in the dirt.

He looked at her so forlornly, the tears welling in those hopeless eyes, and Téa smiled at him, "We're going to get through this okay? We're going to have children. We're going to live in a big house in the country. We're going to be good parents. We're going to take beautiful trips to Europe, floating in the canals of Venice, taking the ship across the English Channel. We're going to watch the Queen in her carriage. We're going to play golf in Scotland. It's going to be beautiful. Like you. Like our children are going to be."

"You're crazy."

"No, honey, it's official, you are."

He smiled…just barely.

"I knew it – I knew there was the man I loved in there."

"No…he's dead, Téa."

"If you're talking about Brandy's soul mate, I agree. I think he went with her. I think that man…left _you_ behind."

He shivered again, "I'm going to die like she did, I think."

"No, Todd, no you're not." She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart. "You're alive, more than alive. I saw you today and that was no act. You were real and you were ready to fight those charges. You were fighting for your life in there…like the judge said."

"They think I raped Brandy."

"I know."

"I might have."

Téa breathed in deeply. Looked at his sad eyes… "I'm here for you. We'll get to the bottom of it."

"What if I did? You gonna stand by me…then?"

She was quiet and he reached for her, touching her face, her chin, running his fingers down her throat. He petted her chest, as if looking for her heartbeat.

"What are you going to do if I did that to her?"

"I can't answer this right now."

"Because you know what you'd do. Leave. Like you should. A person who'd rape that poor girl deserves to go away to jail for a really long time. Forever maybe."

"There are no 'shoulds' in this world, Todd. There is only hope." She turned to him and held his face in her hands once more, "You're so cold."

"There isn't any warmth where I come from."

She held him to her, determined to get through this. Determined to be as strong as she knew he could be, would be. She'd seen it in the courtroom. "But there is where I come from."

The dead dark came quickly. Sleep overtook him at last. Téa remained with him, with her eyes open.

 _Eyes…wide open._

 **To be continued…**


	23. Chapter 23

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 23**

 _Eyes wide open._

He found it difficult to sleep in his room. Something intolerable about it. Couldn't say what it was, didn't care. The twelve days to the preliminary hearing turned to fifteen to twenty. Multiple continuances.

Téa slept in the guest room. He slept on the couch. His days were spent pacing rooms, never going anywhere, a wreck, to be honest. Viki spent time with him, even Tim. Téa tried to bring some normality but it was impossible.

Todd and Téa resorted back to how it was after he'd agreed to get sober. Passing each other in the halls, on the stairs, barely speaking.

On this night, she heard him call out. Every night was the same. She usually ignored it. Tonight though, she was unwell, had been all day. She threw on a robe and headed down the stairs.

Sure enough, he lay on twisted sheets on the couch, twitching, turning, taking a journey into his ever-dark dreams. She sat on the steps, long having learned her lesson that it was best to allow him his nightmares lest she be on the receiving end of his defenses.

Moonlight poured in through the massive windows that lined the southern side of the Penthouse, giving the room an ethereal look and making her feel generally afraid. Fear of dying, being alone, being crowded out…fear of living. Over the days waiting for the preliminary hearing where the prosecution would provide cause for a trial, she came to a conclusion that she had to leave Todd.

Their marriage, she decided, in light of everything, was simply untenable.

 _Unsurvivable_.

Yes, she had to leave him to his infinite pursuit of painlessness, leave him to his addictions, to his constant toying with his own death. Leave him, break up, divorce, uncouple. She didn't have the fortitude to fight his battle to survive anymore. He was too much of an opposing force. Knowing he'd been with Brandy, that he'd left her in a bad enough condition for some to consider it rape, ate at her. Every day she lost a bit of herself to the reality of what happened after Destiny. She grew certain he was back on the edge. All the love and mending on that mountain in West V. hadn't been enough for him.

She leaned back on the stairs and shook her head, bitterly.

 _Un-fucking-believable._

When her grandmother finished embroidering the colorful blouses she'd wear, she'd tie the end thread into a knot and then cut the dangling thread with her teeth. The relationship between Todd and Téa had been stretched to the barest thread…it needed cutting.

He began whimpering and it was all Téa could do to not crawl to him and soothe his hurts, to hold him like she did his first night home twenty days ago after posting bail, to remind him of all that was good and wonderful.

Because he was _her_ heroin.

"But it won't satisfy you," she whispered. "Nothing I can give you is enough." As she said this _truth_ , another wave of nausea in hit her along with an immediate shiver of worry. Things were happening to her body…she had a terrible, terrible feeling.

 _No…please god…no, don't you dare do this to me. I've just now made up my mind. I'm cutting the thread…with my teeth…_

All of a sudden Todd shot up, gasping, his eyes wild-looking, and terror on his face. He was panting. He got to his feet and stood in the moon's light, taking in the perimeter of the room, looking pale and shaken. He cradled his hand, groaning a little, and walked back and forth in front of the glass, his bare feet a pulse of tension on the carpet.

He thought he was alone and Téa didn't want to correct the impression. She stayed still, melting into the stairs, a voyeur hidden in the shadows. The sick in her stomach intensified – she wouldn't be able to stay hidden for long.

He stopped at the center window, better composed, running a hand through his hair. He had shed most of his day clothes, standing in boxers and an unbuttoned black oxford shirt. He turned and went to a chest next to the fireplace, opened it and searched through blankets and pillows until he found what he wanted.

He pulled out an old pair of jeans. Standing up, he undressed down to nothing, his strong naked body lit in the low light. Téa ached at how beautiful he was. It broke her.

He moved carefully so as not to touch his bandaged hand. It still pained him terribly. Téa figured it was psychosomatic because the wound should have been better by now. A metaphor.

He put the jeans on, commando style, not putting on a clean shirt or sweater, a couple of which were in the chest. Téa remembered that chest – Todd had stuff in there for late nights, for when he was working hard on the newspaper, too focused to go upstairs. Way back when he had a life.

He began to wander the room again, a ghost of himself. The pants hung too low on his hips, so low that pubic hair peeked over the beltline, proof of the abuse back in the prison hospital. He still was not eating well. The ink on his back caught moonlight, the scythe of the Grim Reaper seemingly aimed at Téa.

He paced like a caged lion, back and forth, back and forth. He kept checking his wrist for something, his pockets, a habit he'd kept up since the day he came home, since he posted bail. He had lost his bracelet of Granite beads apparently, where he'd strung his wedding ring. She imagined maybe it had fallen in the motel room. Or maybe even in Destiny. She remembered it on him when they made love, remembered touching the beads. But not later, the day they left.

She shuddered and forced herself to stay put despite the growing sensation that she wanted to throw up.

 _No, no, no…it's because I didn't eat…it's the stress…it's the ham sandwich from lunch. No, no, no…please God, no._

She was sure he was going to leave tonight – she was sure this was finally it. The suffering, the intense anxiety, the _want_ was all over him and history said that when he got to this stage of his addiction, there was only one answer.

Sixteenth Street was calling and it was only a matter of time before he'd be there, cash in hand, doing it again.

Problem was that statistics said he would die if he walked out – an addict's body, once clean for a while, returns to a state of low tolerance. The relapse consists of a one-time hot shot, an overdose that kills the addict. She'd talked about it with Gilbert Balsa when Todd first got to Granite. It was the "big risk" behind relapse.

The pacing continued and so did a soft, whispered dialogue Téa couldn't quite hear. Making a case to chase the hit or talking himself out of it?

He shifted to the dining room table and picked up his gold lighter. He clicked it on and off a while, the flame shimmying, capturing his attention. A game he used to play when he was depressed, a reminder of Peter, a motivator for badness.

He stuck one into his mouth and lit up. He rubbed his chest, his head, his lengthening hair, checked his wrist and pockets again. Puffed on the cigarette and played with the lighter. The smell of the smoke irritated Téa …getting into her system.

She couldn't keep hidden. The sickness…was too much.

"Oh god," she said as she got up and walked fast, walked really fast, heading to the bathroom off the kitchen. No doubt Todd thought he was alone because he cursed and coughed as she whipped past him.

"Fuck-me… _Jesus_ … Téa …the hell…"

Just in time, she fell to her knees and threw up hard into the toilet, threw up everything, her lunch, her hurts, her fears and worries. Unstoppable tears followed and she sat on her haunches on the little rug, crying pitifully. Too much pain to bear.

Todd stood at the door with big eyes, fingertips picking at his pockets. "You okay, Delgado? I never seen you sick like this…like ever. You want anything?"

The sweetness and normality in his voice was too much, too much of a contrast to the monster-addict. She was going to cut the thread…that's what she had to do. She'd never be enough for him, he'd never be enough for her. He would choose pain and pain-relief over her again and again and again. He would deprive her of his beautiful pure free self, over and over. All the love in the world couldn't save him, or them.

She shook her head, the tears rolling down her face, and stood up…ready to tell him she was done…ready…

"Téa?"

The moment she got up, the room spun…her head grew light…and then all went black.

Todd caught her in his arms, his heart racing, nonsensical thoughts of all-consuming need having finally, blessedly stopped. The two sunk to the floor, and Todd cradled her, patting her cheeks, calling her name. The fear for her, the worry, took over.

"Téa, Téa, come on…wake up, girl…don't you go anywhere…come on…" He blew in her face, her eyes squeezing shut in reaction, getting him to take a breath in total relief. He lay her down gently and got up, grabbing a towel and wetting it under the faucet. Kneeling at her head, he gently wiped her face. After a couple of minutes, he saw she began to come around, moaning a little. He was relieved. Which was a relief in and of itself.

"There you go," he said softly.

It was a moment of good in the nonstop hell since he saw Brandy on the road outside Granite. Even falling asleep with Téa that first night back had been miserable because dreams had gotten to him.

They had found him.

First, he'd dreamt that Brandy shot him – dreamt they were having tea on the side of the road with tea cups that he kept biting through, china chunks falling out of his mouth.

 _Oh baby, you keep breakin' 'em! Don't break these pretty things._

Then she pulled a gun out of the teapot and shot him in the face. The noise of the prison hospital played like background music.

He then dreamt about the woman who'd helped him in the hospital only this time she looked like his mother and she was doing stuff to him, the same things Peter did to him, grinning in this sick way, and she kept molesting him even though he was begging her to stop. He was deathly afraid, fear that had him wanting to scream but unable to. The fear made him run and soon he was running through black woods and snow and…then he was in Toby's place seeing blood in a syringe, a blossom of blood in the liquid, injecting himself in a bright blue vein running through the center of his busted hand. No, he wasn't _injecting_ himself, he was stabbing himself.

Same dreams every night, ever since.

Real pain in his hand awakened him every night just the same. Fear kept him awake. Almost like the time after remembering Peter. His mind raced constantly, need devouring him.

 _My hand is killing me. I want to eat. I'm cold. I want dope and I want it now even if it kills me. I'm gonna jerk off. Maybe Jed left weed in his room? Whiskey is in the kitchen – better than weed 'cause it's fast and easy. I'm hot. Forget jerking off, I wanna fuck. I'll find Téa. Forget Téa, she hates me. I'll go to Sixteenth and look for Brandy. Shit, she'd dead…I'm going to kill myself. Lie down next to Brandy-dead-in-the-dirt. I'll drink the whiskey then go get dope. Forget fucking, I wanna eat. I want to eat some Tylenol. I want twenty of them. Forget Tylenol, I need morphine. Forget morphine, I want the Princess herself. My hand is killing me. I need to drive someplace. I'm going to run. Run the hell away from here. I wish I could run away from myself. Fuck, I'm dying again. Téa hates me. Brandy hates me. I hate me. I wanna hurt myself. I wanna eat…I wanna jerk off._

 _I'm losing my fucking mind._

Téa startled him when she'd walked past – he thought she was asleep upstairs. He used her isolation from him as a point of reference, a view of his future entirely alone.

His twin was dead and on some level so was he.

When she ran to the bathroom, he had finally decided to leave the Penthouse, to follow Brandy's ghost into the night. He had money upstairs. He had a sweatshirt with a hood so nobody would recognize him. He was so close to tossing in the proverbial towel that he could taste the sleep heroin would offer. He wanted it. It was only a matter of convincing himself to take the necessary steps.

The interruption of Téa, flying past him like a bird, was a camera's shot…he was suddenly still.

"Hey, Delgado, what happened to you?"

"I'm fine…really…"

At that, Téa moved fast again to the bowl and vomited nothing but bile, coughing and sputtering. She started crying again, saying, _no, no, no…_ Todd had been holding back her hair, talking to her in the softest voice, saying reassuring little nothings.

 _The sweetness, the sweetness…makes no sense. He's a hopeless addict who's going to die._

 _Who wants to die._

The room got swimmy again and Todd held her so she wouldn't collapse. He said, "We're going to the hospital. This isn't right…"

"No, no…please…no, no." She began to cry and he knew for sure, this wasn't right.

He picked her up in his arms, cradling her to his chest, "I'm taking you. I'm just gonna put some shoes on, a sweater. Okay?"

The sweetness was torture on her resolve. All she could think of was the thread that had to be cut, but his being sweet made it all the harder. She kept saying, _no, no, no._ An orange thread dangled in her mind's eye…the color of the sun. The color of lemony blood. The tears came again and she pressed her face against his neck, dampening his skin, smelling his sweat and tobacco. The move got him to sigh and say more sweet words, deadly sweet.

"It's okay…you're gonna be alright…you're Delgado…the strongest woman I know…"

He made her cry more, her broken heart on her sleeve. He didn't know how she felt, how weak she was. That she could be swayed by mere _words_. He laid her on the couch despite her objections, then ran up the stairs, telling her not to move, not to try standing, that if she had to puke, go ahead and puke right there, he'd clean it up later.

"It's okay, Delgado," he called from upstairs, "I've done a hell of a lot worse!"

Moments later he had his keys and shoes on, a black hoodie, and he was carrying her again, out the front door, down the elevator. Syrupy sweet, he said, "You're beautiful when you cry, beautiful when you're puking your guts out. How do you do that? You'll be alright…just gonna have a doctor look at you to make sure. Never seen you this sick…"

She knew he had to be hurting to carry her, between his damaged hand and everything else, but he didn't show it. Walked with her, walked as if she was light as air. Jed had seen him that way. He'd done a similar thing for the boy. Killed a killer and carried the child out of that decrepit building despite being in such a bad way, despite being so heroin-sick.

 _Superman._

Moments later they were in his black truck, heading down the boulevard to Llanview Emergency. She put her hand on the cold window and turned to watch Todd drive. Earlier, she had laughed sadly at him because he had fumbled with the gears, forgetting the location of the shifter, owning too many cars or, more simply, having forgotten how to drive.

He looked at her, the lights of the street revealing the worry on his face. He had his cell phone and he dialed a number from memory. Téa relaxed, watching the street, watching the people, the wet towel still clutched in her hand. Still intensely nauseated.

"Tim, it's Todd, I know it's late but I'm on the way to the hospital, not for me… Téa passed out…she's throwing up…I don't know if she has fever, she's always hot…who the fuck can tell? Think you can meet us there or maybe your doctor friend can? I want someone who you know. Okay…okay…thanks."

He stuck the phone back into the pocket of his hoodie and kept driving. They passed Sixteenth Street and Téa watched his face as he glanced at the people still awake, walking the sidewalks. Téa followed his gaze and saw the homeless, a few women underdressed for the weather and flagging down slowing cars, saw people hunched over in hooded sweatshirts not unlike what he was wearing and ducking into an alley. Saw him lick his lips and close his eyes for a time longer than a blink. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Fear radiated off of him like an aura, like something tangible.

Téa reached over and against all her desire to cut, cut, cut that damn string, she put her hand on his arm and said, "You're going to get through this."

"I don't care about me right now."

More streets passed and he turned hard into the parking lot of the hospital, jamming on the emergency brake and shifting the gear to park in front of the doors. He jumped out of the truck and ran inside, someone coming back with him with a wheelchair. The door opened on Téa's side.

"I'm all right, Todd, I can walk. I'm fine…just still queasy. That's all."

Todd shook his head, "Hell no…last time you were up you fainted. Get in the chair or I'll carry you inside."

Because she was tired and because Todd was partly right, she followed orders, getting into the chair, and the two were shuffled quickly inside. While Todd checked her in, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket like the most normal of men yet looking so broken in the harsh light of the hospital that Téa could barely stand it, Tim Graham arrived in person, all doctor-like smiles and empathy. The dirty-blond curls on his head popped out all over, his trademark, sunny-California clothes consisting of jeans and a well-filled sweatshirt, his feet happily embraced by Birkenstock sandals. What a wonderful sight he was, the definition of absolute safety. The sight of him made Téa weep, some of her worries spilling out.

"Tim…he's a such a mess…like before…worse maybe…"

"No, no…it's okay…I'm helping him… _shhh_ …he's going to be fine. He's better than he appears…he's better than even he knows."

He bent over and hugged her, Téa working to gain control of her emotions which seemed so hopelessly out of whack. She found herself struggling to put them back into their place.

She thought to be the lawyer she was trained to be, thinking distance, thinking practicality. She had questions she needed to ask Todd about the violence of his trysts with Brandy, they joked about it, _strangulation._ She didn't take it seriously. She still suspected he slept with someone at Granite, just a hunch, and if he did, she was probably an IV drug user…god, it suddenly made her think of his time on the streets…that maybe, that maybe Brandy wasn't the only person he'd been with.

 _It isn't personal, Delgado._

She needed to ask questions the answers to which would hurt. _Infinitely._ The thought of his answers (because a lawyer always knows the answers to questions they ask) forced still more quiet tears out of her but that then got her angry at her femininity, angry that she should show her emotions so plainly.

How could she love him? This was madness, this was…

 _Heroin._

She breathed deeply and Tim let her go, smiling at her, offering gentle assurances. Todd came up to them at last, sitting heavily in the seat next to Téa, scooting down low, his legs apart, his foot tapping nervously. He chewed on his thumbnail as he looked at some forms he had to fill out for Téa.

"You allergic to anything?"

"No."

"You have any of these horrible diseases? Diabetes, heart disease, cancer, thrombosis, asthma, lupus…"

"No."

"Last period?"

Téa hesitated and looked at him. "I don't talk about my period with you."

"The form asks for it. I need to fill it out for the doctor. Tim…talk to her."

"Give the clipboard to her so she can fill the rest out in privacy."

Todd handed it to her, scooting down again in the seat. Chewing on his thumbnail. Téa looked at the boots he was wearing and hated them…hated those black boots he loved. In them she saw Brandy, she saw heroin, she saw addiction. The tears started up and the nausea kicked up again.

"Oh god…," she sniffled, putting the damp towel to her mouth. Todd turned to her, sitting up a little, but Téa waved him off and muttered, "It's okay…just…look in the other direction."

She then completed the forms, handing them to Tim.

"So he won't be so nosy."

Tim gazed at Téa then at his patient – Todd shrugging slightly. Tim took the clipboard to the nurse and then returned with a cup. He smiled.

"Gotta pee in a cup, hon."

Téa didn't look at Todd. She took the cup and stopping Todd from helping her, putting a hand out at him, she stood up. Feeling ok. She made her way to a small bathroom. After some minutes, she emerged and handed the cup to the nurse who whisked it away.

When she returned to her seat, she saw Tim look at Todd with a serious expression. He reached out, putting his large hand on the side of Todd's head, grabbing him like he was a child. Gave him the slightest of affectionate shakes. Tim said no words and yet said a world's full.

Téa sighed with a pang of sadness when she saw Todd close his eyes and tilt his head into the warmth of his friend. It was so affectionate and totally honest. She was reminded of how Todd was back at Brandy's apartment, how grateful he had been, even in the depth of his high, perhaps because of it, to see his Doctor Graham.

"Hey, you two," Tim said, "…things are going to be alright. I told them to have Dr. Bennett see Téa. She's a great doctor. And…um…Dr. Lansing is here and he can take care of your hand. You're really favoring it. Shouldn't still be hurting you. What do you say? No reason to wait 'til tomorrow, eh?"

Todd shrugged, "I guess. Why do you always want to kill two birds?" He had a bad memory of the last time Tim thought to have Todd treated at the same time as Téa.

"Makes things easier. Your hand, still hurts, right?"

"Like a motherfuck."

"You hurt anywhere else?"

Téa spoke up, coming out of her misery long enough to say, "Yes, he reacts, his sides. I think it's his ribs."

Todd turned to her, "How do _you_ know?"

"I see how you move—the moon showed me."

He turned back, biting his fingernail, tapping his foot. "The moon showed her…I always knew she was a witch. Doesn't matter…been in worse shape before."

The nurse called Téa's name and Todd got up quickly, offering to help Téa to her feet. Holding out his hand.

"I'm fine," Téa said. "I went to the bathroom fine." She got up and sure enough, got woozy, Todd grabbing her.

"I told you," he said as he walked her to the examining room. He made sure she was nice and secure on the bed before he stepped away.

A nurse came in and took all of Téa's vitals, temperature, blood pressure, the usual, and recorded everything into Tea's chart. She hustled out of the examining room. When the doctor came in moments later, Todd wasted no time in repeating the story, "She threw up a bunch of times and fainted. Something's wrong. Real wrong. Fix her."

"Well, okay then," the doctor said, picking up the chart. Dr. Bennett smiled at Téa, introduced herself, before flipping through the pages.

She then turned to Todd, "I'd like to have some privacy with your wife."

Todd was taken by surprise and growled, "Lots of goddamn privacy in this place." But then he looked toward Téa who nodded, weakly, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

"It's probably a good idea," she said. He moved close to her, wiping away those tears.

"I'm sorry you don't feel well…I'm sorry," he said softly. He turned to the doctor, looking pissed off, "Don't let her off the table until you know what's wrong with her."

"Aye-aye, Sir," the doctor said.

Tim pulled a reluctant Todd out of the room, leaving Téa alone with the doctor. She looked to the side, looked away.

Dr. Bennett smiled, pulled the curtains closed around the bed, and pulled a stool out, sitting on it. She put on reading glasses and reviewed the file once more. She was dressed to the nines, high heels, a brown linen skirt, a silk blouse peeking out from under her white coat.

After a moment, she took off her glasses and got to her feet, examining Téa, feeling for lumps, asking questions. After she was done, she sat back down and gazed at her patient, her voice gentle, "So, Mrs. Manning, do we know why you vomited and fainted?"

The tears started again, wild and wet. She found herself sobbing, the weeks exploding outwards, the worries, the fears in full color. The words were awful to speak out loud, impossible to speak out loud. She didn't want to. She had a thread to cut, a relationship to kill. The doctor patted her shoulder, her arm…

"Take your time, hon," she said.

Finally, Téa managed to choke out her reality, choke out the probable result of the day Todd went to Granite House for the first time…the time she'd literally tied him to the bed to keep him from doing any more drugs. She could still hear his begging, his agony, she could still hear when he got mean…a nightmare that ended up in unprotected love-making, which didn't make sense because of the birth control pills. The child… the baby… would be damned.

 _Madre de dios…you're a cruel God to do this to me._

"I think I'm pregnant," she tearfully said.

"Based on your chart…based on the pregnancy test we just did, I think so, too. About 5 or 6 weeks out, maybe. It's very early. Let's take a look, okay?"

"Wait… isn't that too…? How long?" Oh she backed up. The timing was wrong, off. "6 weeks ago, I wasn't… couldn't…he was in rehab."

The doctor smiled, "Could be 5. It's early. It happens sometimes, getting very sick as soon as those hormones start up. Your body essentially got flooded. We'll take blood and do a pelvic. I'm pretty confident."

 _Five weeks._

Her heart skipped a beat

 _Destiny._

The mad rush to take Jed away from Llanview is what did it. She'd skipped pills. Stupid. And of course… in Destiny... they had unprotected sex… they'd made love in that cabin, multiple times, his lazy fuck in the morning like a waking lion, and they were purely themselves.

 _Pure. Free. Sober._

Tears came quietly again. If this was for sure, _love_ had made this child. Nothing else had mattered that night when he crawled to her as she sat in front of the fire. Not his addictions, not their history, not their ever-present hell. They had risen above everything...

 _I love you._

 _Purely, freely._

* * *

Tim stood looking at the x-rays with Dr. Lansing, the conclusion being that Todd had several cracked ribs and a fracture of his eye socket. He had hairline fractures in his hand. They were healing. Nothing to do. Dr. Lansing hadn't seen Todd since he was in the hospital last, having overdosed. The way Tim and Lansing looked at him, though, Todd figured they thought he was doing drugs again.

"I'm clean, totally sober."

Lansing laughed, "I know that. Did we say something to make you think—"

"You're just looking at me weird."

Tim clarified, "We're just assessing your overall health, kiddo."

"Ready to take care of that hand?" Lansing asked.

He looked at the doctor and nodded, knowing this was going to hurt like hell. He knew he shouldn't still feel so much pain. It had been five weeks or so already.

Todd got up onto the bed, Tim next to him.

The doctor started to unwrap his hand and Todd grunted, whimpered, slammed a hand to his mouth to stop himself from crying out. God it hurt.

The doctor knitted his brows and paused, slowing his movements. He glanced at Tim then back at Todd. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'll be careful."

When he got the wrapping off, he could see the swelling and redness surrounding the wound. He gently studied the stitched hole. The bullet had actually gone in and bounced off bones, skidding back out.

"Looks infected. It's mostly healed but something got in there. We gotta clean it. It's going to hurt so I'm going to numb you. The needle is gonna hurt too."

And it would…because the needle had to go straight into the bullet wound.

Lansing said, "Ready?"

Todd took a breath and nodded, looking at his friend.

"You're doing good so far," Tim said.

The needle…Todd imagined other things for that needle. Instead his own dream came back to him, a needle stabbing at his injured hand, causing untold pain. Lansing stuck the needle in and began to inject the medicine, the pain a lingering burn that finally made Todd cry. Found himself turning his head and without thought, natural as breathing, pressed against Tim's arm, and it was funny how for the smallest of moments as the needle stung, as he felt his doctor's strength and the warmth of the sweatshirt, as he smelled the faintest scent of laundry detergent and some manly soap, he had to stifle a laugh in the middle of his pained cry.

 _I think you're bi and just don't know it. Call it instinct. Sixth sense. Gaydar. And the fact that your response to a doctor-crush was to kiss him. It clears up everything._

 _Nooooo….what? Noooo…_

 _Fucking Mason._

The numbness set in and he sighed in relief. He lifted his head from the warmth of his doctor and looked into his very blue eyes. _Damn, that is some kinda fucking blue._ Tim smiled sadly and nodded and blinked, winked, his usual silently spoken promise of _you're gonna be okay, kiddo. It's okay._

He closed his eyes at that, _stupid_ _fucking Mason,_ _not everything has to mean something,_ while Lansing cleaned out the wound.

When it was done, Lansing patted Todd on the arm and left, Tim following him out, a nurse coming in to re-wrap his hand.

Todd lay there thinking about Brandy…about his failures. The need for heroin had faded some, the conversation that had been playing so loudly in his head earlier returning to a mere hum.

The nurse stepped out, passing out through the curtains, the fabric swaying in the gentle wake of her. He looked at the staff buzzing around him, wondering where Jed was, wondering how Téa was, wondering…wondering…wondering how he'd survive prison. He didn't think he would.

Tim reviewed Todd's medications that he'd been on at Granite. Issued new scripts. Todd had been refusing it but based on his crazy and the dreams, he figured he better get on board once again.

"Let's get you back on track."

Tim handed him a tiny cup with pills and a cup of water. Todd looked at them and then with sad eyes said, "You know, I joked with Jed…back on that hike that got all fucked up…that I'd turn into a werewolf without these pills. That true? You think maybe…something was happening with me when I saw Brandy?"

"Yeah, it's possible. These stabilize you – the sudden drop of drug levels can sometimes create a worse mental state than when you started."

Todd shook his head and drank down the pills. He looked at Tim, "I'm bad off, Superman. Téa hates me. I fucked up…things were good…and then I fucked it all up. Brandy's dead because of me. Téa…she lost faith…and when she loses faith…" He smiled through the pain, "She doesn't get it back."

Tim furrowed his brows and studied Todd, "Can you wait, kiddo? Can you hold off on your judgment of yourself, of your life, for the time being?"

Todd made a noise of aggravation, looking around him, hopping off the table. He ran a hand through his hair, checking his wrist and pockets. Rolled his eyes at his own absurd actions.

"What are you lookin' for?"

"My Granite bracelet…stupid…because it got lost somewhere and I don't have any idea where. My wedding ring was on it. That thing survived Toby's…I spent weeks in a shooting gallery and nobody took it – dope fiends took everything else from me – shit I don't want to think about – but they left that fuckin' ring. And now it's gone. Like Téa. She survived everything up until now."

That hopelessness stared back at Tim and Tim took hold of Todd's shoulder, offering a warm squeeze.

"We'll find the ring."

"And Téa?"

"I can't guarantee you'll find your way with her."

"'Course you can't."

"But Todd…the path you need to find is your own – you need to stand on your own two feet before you can think about Téa. Or anything else, really."

Instinctively he looked at his black, steel-toed boots, knowing the history they carried. He was still in hell. Glancing up to an imagined heaven, he wasn't sure he could pull himself out this time.

As if Tim could read his mind, the doctor said softly, "You've done it before…you've faced worse…I believe in you."

* * *

Téa slept in the hospital bed – she'd been put in a private room, a room reserved for special cases, for patients waiting for transfer, for dying patients. The results of her examination still echoed in her head, the doctor having confirmed her fears. She was pregnant with Todd's baby…a child conceived in love. This gave her the smallest bit of relief. Certainly, such a child would reflect his or her beginnings. This little one would have a fighting chance.

If she kept it.

She cried at that…cried because this was why she went on the pill. She was not going to have a baby with Todd as long as he was a raging addict, fucked up beyond her ability to help him, beyond anyone's ability to help.

She suddenly felt confident she'd terminate the pregnancy. She couldn't fathom it. The tie with him, the thread… would never be cut.

"What did the doctor say? What's wrong?" Todd's emotionless voice broke through the brightness of the room.

She thought to lie. She thought to tell him she had cancer. She thought to say there wasn't a thing wrong with her. That it was just a broken heart, a bad ham sandwich, sheer hatred. She thought to grab a weapon and kill him right here and now. She thought to pull him close to her like a mother lion and protect him from himself, from everything.

She did none of those things.

"I'm pregnant. That's what's wrong."

Immediately, tears welled and she turned her head. She sniffled. A kind of grief tore through her. She regained herself. Turned back.

Todd looked around and grabbed a rolling stool, sitting down. Said quietly, "Okay."

Téa expected drama. She expected him to agonize, walk out. One more reason to relapse or chase down any number of his current addictions. His skin still had a terrible pallor but his hand was now nicely wrapped in clean bandages. His brownish hair fell a little into his face, boyishly, the cut hair having grown the past couple of weeks. He had a five o'clock shadow and circles under his eyes. Heroin need.

He put his hand on his lap, cradling it a little, eyes on the bandaging… and then he smiled. A true blue smile that reached his eyes, warm, and full of love. A most private smile that came from the deepest part of him.

And that sweet smile made Téa weep. The _love_ comingfrom himwas worse than a knife to her heart.

"How do you know it's even yours?" She wanted to hurt him but it didn't seem to work.

"If it wasn't mine, you wouldn't be crying. You either didn't sleep with Edric… or he used a condom. If you had doubt, you'd be triumphant."

"God damn you."

He lifted his brows a little and moved the stool closer to her. Put his head on her pillow like he was a puppy. Got serious. "If you want an abortion, I'd understand. I swear on my life, on your life, on your grandmother's life, that I would never use it against you for as long as I live."

"Fuck you, Todd."

"That _is_ how it started."

He caressed her cheek with gently folded fingers, he touched her hair, and he said in a soft voice, "Let's go home. I'll put you in bed, I'll make you soup. I'll hold your hair when you puke. Hell, I'll catch the puke. I'll be with you no matter what decision you make. I'll love you the rest of my life, Delgado."

"And how long will that life be? A day, a week, a year? How long? Will you even live to see this baby born?"

"I'll love you…for as long as I live…and then for all eternity."

"How long will you live, Todd?! Huh? HOW LONG?!" She began to cry, the pain of the day simply too much to bear. "And who's going to die with you…who else will you share your pain with? A new whore? A hustler maybe? Some other pathetic, loser drug addict? Huh? HUH?! Kill some more cops on your way out, why don't you…oh god, oh god…I hate you so much…I can't have this baby…I can't…"

He didn't argue. He climbed into the bed, boots and all, awkward and clunky and making noise, and even though she was hitting him, even though she fought him, he held her to his body until she stopped, held her and rocked her the way he wished he could rock Brandy there in the dirt grave, the way he'd rock himself when he was the most sick, when he was the one dying. Kept saying, "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

She couldn't cut the connection, couldn't do it because there wasn't just one thread stringing them together anymore…there were many…they were thick…the single thread had turned into a swaying curtain of golden chains…

" _I love you, I love you, I love you…"_

 **To be continued...**


	24. Chapter 24

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 24**

Five in the morning and the hospital was noisy, carts on the move, patients being awakened by nurses, the emergency room hectic. Todd lay back on the recliner, watching his beloved sleep, chewing compulsively on his fingernails. The doctor felt it was best Téa stay until morning. To him, she looked vulnerable, curled up under the thin blanket, lips parted, features relaxed, a cloud of brown hair on the pillow. Hard to imagine her reining in judge and jury in the courtroom this way.

An ache blossomed at memories of her fighting for him to get custody of Starr among a myriad of other saves, like such a bulldog, and he wanted to get back in bed with her, to assure her…

…the wish passed because it was useless.

 _God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change._

He'd pulled away from her so she could rest more comfortably. She'd fallen asleep in his arms, tearful, scared to death of the unknown, absolutely _hating_ him. So much he could feel the tension throughout her body. Broke his heart the way she cringed when he moved, when his skin touched hers. He understood. He knew why she felt the way she did. All the love he had for her couldn't heal the infinite damage he'd brought to her feet, like a dead rat in a cat's jaw.

 _God grant me the courage to change the things I can._

He'd learned the Serenity Prayer at Granite without thinking much about the words. Knew it like kids knew the Pledge of Allegiance. At the close of evening group meetings, everyone recited the poem in unison. Some of his Granite mates closed their eyes, and others looked at the ground or heavenward. He said the words but didn't mean them, didn't grasp them.

Busy's intense gaze, Gilbert's, too, told him understanding would come.

"One day you'll be moving along in your recovery," Busy had said one difficult afternoon, "or you'll be in the midst of a relapse or on the verge of one, and suddenly, the meaning will be there for you. You will get it. You'll feel it in your gut and you'll get on your knees and scream those lines to God."

"I don't believe in God," Todd explained there in the rain on the back porch, from his cowering position against the post. He'd been fighting a wave of a wish to leave the program. He remembered Busy's hand on his shoulder, stopping him from walking into the drizzle.

"That's not the point, Todd. The idea here is powerlessness to an addiction, understanding that you have no control over it. The prayer says to ease your mind and spirit because the addiction is bigger than you. And since it's bigger than you, you should let others help. That's why we say it here at Granite, so we can reach out, so we can look to each other for help."

"But Granite isn't always going to be here."

"Others will take the place of Granite. Sponsors, counselors, former addicts, AA, a myriad of replacements. The final one you're going to look to, though, is _yourself_. Within you, lives God."

"God again."

"Positive energy, a supreme being, a supreme force, inner strength…God's called a lot of things. For some it's more literal, for others…"

Todd didn't mention the woodsy spirit who had spoken to him when he was so sick, back at the hospital. He remembered the delusions, the nightmares, the waking dreams, all reflecting his fight for some semblance of sanity.

He rewarded the Spirit's efforts with heroin.

The prayer came to him now, the words welling inside, playing louder than the wants, drowning them out. He said them beneath his breath, wanting to feel their meaning, wanting to feel it in his gut the way Busy said he would. Needing to feel it.

From her bed, Téa had been watching him. He'd closed his eyes a long time ago. He'd stopped chewing on nails and held his injured hand with the other. His expression was weighted, tense under a cloud of obvious emotion. His lips moved and a whispered dialogue reached her but she couldn't make out the words.

She finally heard him say aloud, with an almost angry tone, "Amen."

Disbelieving, she asked, "Are you _praying_?"

He popped open his eyes to her, taken aback, and seemed to contemplate her question. Sitting in the quiet a while, he held Téa with his gaze. She was about to give up on an answer and sink back into the sheets when she heard his voice.

"When she told me she had heroin, that she brought me what I needed, I lost my mind. Everything collapsed around me. I was hopeless, angry, _done_ , because I wanted what she had. She brought me doom, killed me in that moment. By the time I came to myself, she was dead and I was in prison again. I've hurt people I love in the worst ways because of pain, Téa. It's all so…fucking unforgivable."

There wasn't much to say. Téa breathed deeply, reaching for a sense of calm. The nausea had faded, but she knew it would return. She had yet to make up her mind about the fetus's future, the fetus that wasn't yet a baby. Her hand pressed on her lower belly, resentful of his self-pity. At the same time, she continued to watch him, to listen, the sheet pulled tightly up around her.

He put his hands to his face, covering his eyes, and said, " _God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; the wisdom to know the difference. Let me live one day at a time; let me enjoy one moment at a time. Let me accept hardships as the pathway to peace, taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it. Let me trust that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will, that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him. Forever in the next. Amen._ "

"Where are you?" She asked in a hushed voice.

He got tearful, his voice cracking, "I am supremely humbled."

She turned away from him. "I can't do this, I can't feel…for you."

He breathed in noisily and rubbed his face hard, trying to pull himself together. He had things to say.

"I don't expect you to feel anything other than hate. I get that, _god_ , do I get that. When I woke up at the Penthouse, after what you did for me after posting bail, helping me through that first night, I knew we were over. And it hurt. Everything in me, hurt. And you know what? There was only one thing I wanted to help me with all that pain. _The_ one thing. Made me sick. How could I think that? How could I want something that's wrecked so much…how can I sit here now, in front of you, knowing Brandy's in a box because of me, knowing the pain and hurt you feel, and still want to shoot up? I thought I hit rock bottom on the side of the road outside Granite. I was wrong. There's no end to the bottom rung of hell."

Téa curled up a little tighter in the bed, refusing to look at him as he revealed his undeniable truth.

"Yeah, right now, I wanna go back to the Penthouse, get cash, score some dope, and get _fucked up_. I want it so bad, I'm shaking. What's wrong with me? Do I really want to die when I've been with you and it was perfect and amazing…and my past finally faded into nothing and I saw and touched real happiness…? I'm powerless to this. I'm nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing."

He was on the edge of tears, but they didn't come. His face and body crumpled under the weight of an addict's horrific reality. He was powerless to his addiction. He understood the Serenity Prayer, now. He felt it.

 _Let me trust that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will, that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him._

"I'm sorry, Delgado," he croaked, "for…for everything." He got up off the recliner and moved close to her. She looked at him, glancing up at his broken self, glancing down at his boots, those damn black steel-toed boots that reeked of Brandy and the streets. She took hold of his hand.

She said, "You're not the only one who needs that prayer. For the past year, I've been thinking I could change you. I thought if I loved you enough, you'd beat heroin. To see you leave my arms and walk into hell, willingly, I know now, I feel it in my heart, that I am powerless to _your_ addictions." The tears came now. She rolled over, turning away from him. She could feel his fingers running through her hair, just barely a touch. A butterfly's brush of its wings.

"I'm tired," she said. "The sun is coming out. Summer's here. When did we last sit in the sun, just you and me? Happy?"

"Have we ever?"

"Maybe not."

"Let me lie with you."

 _Let me die with you._

"Don't touch me, Todd."

She heard him control tears, heard him take steps backwards, murmuring, "I get it, I get it." He worked to gain control and then said softly to her, "I love you, Delgado. I will always love you. Nobody has done what you've done. Not for me. Never for me. You're my life. You."

Footsteps tentative at first, then more assured, then none. When Téa looked, he was gone. She buried her face in the pillows and tucked her knees under body, repeating what she remembered of the Prayer, her own agonized version.

"God grant me the serenity to accept what I can't change, the courage to change what I can, the wisdom to tell the difference. Let me live a day at a time. God, please, please, please…give me the strength to make the right decision on this child. Amen, Amen, Amen."

* * *

The place was the same, the same people, same losers, same God-forsaken hopelessness.

He parked the truck deep in an alleyway. An alley he knew. He got out, patting his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. Walked a block or so past a couple of sleeping homeless people and one whore eating a sandwich. She smiled at him then flipped him off. When he got near the entrance of one of many fruitful alleys in the Sixteenth Street district, he stood a long while against the graffiti-stained wall, one boot flat against the brick building behind him. He smoked and watched, watched the place by the light of day.

People shuffled past, cars and trucks and delivery vans drove by, and the sound of barking dogs echoed in the distance. The machinery of a trash truck squealed as it picked up the day's load. At his feet, a kitten mewed and rubbed her flea-infested, ratty body against his legs.

He closed his eyes and listened to the city noise and the cries of the cat. He remembered Brandy here, remembered the scent of vanilla soap on her skin, the crush of her fragile body beneath him. He'd tried the cemetery, tried talking to her there, but that wasn't her. Grass, trees, birds singing, the music of a fountain's waterfall… that wasn't Brandy. She was here, her soul was here.

Dropping down, he touched the cat, a cat nobody would want. Nobody would dare pet such a mangy thing. The kitten cried and showed fangs, hissing, every time he pressed down on her matted fur. His cigarette dangled from his lips. Téa's voice banged about in his head, " _Don't touch me."_

He shut that down; he'd lost her.

"You hurt or something?"

The cat glanced at him, screamed at him. Wanted more petting.

"I'm sorry," he said to nobody in particular.

He remembered sitting and waiting for her to finish doing her thing behind the Dumpster. Remembered cold winter nights, huddled against the brick wall, drifting in a doped-up dream. Remembered being sick with withdrawals until an angel rescued him and led him to a shelter. Remembered leaving the next day, the promise of drugs falling out of Brandy's mouth. Remembered shooting up over and over and over until his arms stiffened with injuries, until his body ached like he'd run a marathon, until heroin seemed the only thing his body could digest.

He remembered the pathetic trysts with her that turned ugly. Remembered Toby's place and what Brandy had to do to get him there. Remembered the shit he did to stay there. The faceless people. Mouths and hands on him. Body parts in his hand. In his mouth. The noise of it. The taste. Whatever was left of dignity, self-worth, and humanity, disintegrated in that place. It led to Phillip's nasty trick on him, the pinnacle of his slide into the lowest level of hell. He was just a whore, always had been, just like Brandy, only good for the ways he could use and abuse himself and everyone he loved.

 _God give me the serenity to accept what I can't change._

This was what his salvation had brought him. He'd lost everything to heroin, and Brandy had lost her life. Was he ready to lose his, too? The one last thing he had?

Remember everything, he told himself.

 _God give me the courage to change what I can._

Trash was everywhere: papers, used condoms, condom wrappers, caps to syringes, paper bags used for huffing, cigarette butts, food wrappers, empty crates, rotting food, discarded clothes, and other discarded bits of life. A bleached-blond prostitute came up to him and laid it on thick, pulling him up so he could look down at her, so she could purr and rub up against him and talk shit.

"You wanna love me with your bad self, baby? You wanna fuck me in the ass? You want me to blow you, to jerk your big, hard cock, huh? What you want? I'll do _anything_. You just have to ask..."

He let her do her sales bid, the contact both gruesome and electrifying. The brick wall behind him scratched his back and his heart raced. She looked awful with deep set circles under grey-blue eyes and a deadness to her mouth even though she was probably his age or so. She rubbed his cock through his jeans and he grew at her touch.

"See," she hissed, "you want this. You are _so_ hungry."

A little cash and she'd get on her knees and finish the job. It was easy to imagine. He'd seen it hundreds of times with Brandy. Brandy had done it to him just the same.

At last he pushed her away, eyes searching for his lost kitten. He'd dropped the little thing.

The woman laughed, called out, "Hey, Donny! Got a customer for you. I'm not his type."

He shook his head. She had no idea.

Instinctively, he stuck his hands into his pockets and found the money. He looked up, just as the kitten came back, just as a young kid in baggy pants approached. He had a grin on his face. Brown eyes, brown skin. His hair was dyed green just like Jedediah had at one time. The whore wandered away.

"You wanna suck or a fuck?" the kid said. "I do it all."

"How do you know I'm not a cop?"

The kid laughed out loud. "That injured hand. No cop can work like that. So what you want?" He moved closer to Todd, close enough for Todd to smell sweat, cigarettes, piss. Some people like that sorta thing. "You wanna fuck? Or you like me to suck your cock. Or maybe you wanna suck mine." He stuck his hands into his pocket, eyes hard on Todd's. "I do it all."

Twenty was all he needed. The reason he came to be in this alleyway in the first place. _Remember_ , he told himself. He looked at the kid, seeing that he couldn't be more than Jed's age, seventeen, maybe younger.

"You carrying?" He licked his lips and looked at the cat. "Got any H?" he asked, the kitten mewling at his feet.

The boy assessed the risk, taking in Todd's appearance, weighing the possibility he was just covering up what he really wanted which was to fuck a boy. He looked up and down the alley, leaned in, like he had a secret. Said, "Am I too old for you? You want...younger?"

Todd backed up, hissing, "Jesus Christ…the fuck is wrong with you?"

The kid snort-laughed, "Okay, okay...how you like the H?"

"Powder. No tar."

"You need the works or what?"

"I'll make due."

The kid knew now that his potential customer was an addict. He rolled out his offer.

"I got the best, man, the best. Quarter bag for a twenty. You got a twenty? I see a twenty on you, I see it. We got what you want. It ain't stepped on too much. Real good stuff. All you need is a quarter bag and you good to go. Want it?"

 _God, give me the courage to change what I can. God, give me the courage, the strength to change what I can. Change. What I can._

The boy grinned, showing off his rotting teeth. Beautiful brown skin, ruined. Todd held the bill in his fist and felt the need in his gut grow until it was a mad, psychotic scream in his head, until he thought he was going to grab the kid by the throat and make him go back to the dealer so he could take everything, every bit of dope on them. He'd kill for the drugs, he'd stick his hand right through their chests and rip out their fucking hearts.

He shoved the money back into his pocket and grabbed the kitten up in his hand. "Get back to school, wouldja? Or go home to your mama."

"No powder?"

"No. Fuck off."

The boy cursed him back, foul and disgusting, _faggot_ thrown in for good measure, of course, before he started hitting on the next person. Asked over and over again, "What do you need, man, what you want?"

Todd watched him until he disappeared into the grime, into the foggy distance. And in that haze, Todd could see Brandy, her silky dress wrecked with the weather, with the streets, her black hair flying in the breeze, her neck bruised, and her feet in black Stilettos, toes turned in. He could see her smile and the slight lift of her shoulder, a shy motion she always did when daring to speak an idea, to say… _I don't know nothin' about nothin'._

 _What you want?_

He remembered everything. His stomach burned, his skin itched, his eyes watered, and every cell in his body ached for a shot of pure bliss. The idea of her being gone hurt like hell for so many reasons. She didn't deserve what happened to her, any of it, from A to Z, the shit he did to her included. He wondered if the loss would ever stop hurting, the guilt.

The cat cuddled up to Todd as he walked the long walk to his truck, its claws digging into his shirt. Damn thing was purring. "Why are you so happy? I could be taking you to a kill shelter." He dug into his pocket for his keys. "Don't worry. That ain't gonna happen."

Once in the truck, he put the kitten on the passenger's seat, the kitten immediately curling into a ball. He pulled his phone out and stared at the numbers. He called Tim. The doctor answered with a soft _hey kiddo_ , a _hey_ full of promise and assurances and hey-I-got-you and I-will-never-hurt-you. His voice brought everything to the surface, fear, pain, love, hope, sorrow… all of it bloomed inside.

"Hey… you got the address to the halfway house? I'm okay, yeah. I just…I need to be someplace safe, you know?"

He looked down at his boots while Tim rattled off the address, promising to text it to him.

"Yeah, got it. Thanks."

He sighed, the kitten purring as he stroked her upright ears. Tim asked about Téa.

"She's not doing so well, Superman. She's…uh...pregnant and no, she's not gonna keep it." He started to cry at that, but pulled it back in. "Maybe you can talk to her? Just help her through it? She won't want me there. Maybe Viki can be with her, you know, during the…uh… abortion."

He bit his tongue to stop the swell of emotion, floored at how much the pregnancy meant to him, how deeply it hurt that she would do the only obvious choice, the only right thing. Who was he to bring a child into the world? Too fucked up to produce, to be given such a gift. Why should she raise a child alone? Another child in the Victor Lord line… how is that good?

No, no, she was right...

"Yeah, I'm just…uh… sad, you know? I got no say, Doc...none. Anyway, thanks for the address. Um…one last thing. I want you to know that…you been really good to me. Not a lot of people would go as far as you. I'm sorry for letting you down. You tried to stop me from…from…you know, leaving the hospital way back, and uh...this isn't your fault, all that's happened? You're a good doctor, a real friend. I kinda love you, you know? I'll never forget when you showed up at Brandy's place. I'll never forget looking up at you… like an oasis, yeah?" He laughed a little, held back tears. "I never forget that you… um… you didn't cross lines, not once, even though I did. You didn't laugh at me trying to do something like… trying to get close to you that one time? You could have, coulda gotten mad, coulda been sick...but you didn't do any of that." He laughed again, the deepest sorrow in it. "You made me feel real instead, like it was nothing. Yeah. You went all the way for me. You never gave up. You…uh…take care, okay? I'll…uh…see ya'."

He slammed the end button and within seconds it began to ring and ring. Tim was calling back. Todd turned the phone off, just not up to reassuring anyone of his healthful state of mind. No, he couldn't do that right now.

Tossing the cell to the floor, he focused on the rhythm of the fire escapes, the straight lines of the rooftops, and the bluest sky. He hoped Brandy had found the heaven she'd dreamed about. Anything had to be better than the hell of earth.

"Tell me you were wrong about us not being able to be fixed," he said. "Tell me you see from wherever you are, that you and I would have made it."

The boy selling the dope and himself padded past the truck, heading towards a figure in a filthy jacket. The guy was hunched over and shivering, scratching his head in a manic way as he handed over bills and grabbed the treasure. He took off, the relief he must have felt palpable. Todd remembered all too well that feeling.

He looked down at his black steel-toed boots and then opened the door. Took the boots off and dropped them to the ground, onto the alleyway, before shutting the door again. He put his socked feet on the pedals, pressing the brake before turning the ignition on, before giving the cat a tussle of its ears, and with a screech of the tires, made his way out of the Sixteenth Street district.

"Bye, Brandy," he said, "bye, my Johnny-girl."

* * *

He sat in the truck in front of a once-beautiful Victorian house, hands stuck on the steering wheel. The cat slept hard, curled in the crook of the passenger seat. Tears rolled down his face and he said the serenity prayer over and over again. Feeling it in his gut the way Busy said he would.

A bald, black man came up to the truck and tapped on the side window. Todd rolled it down after a moment or so and looked oh-so-forlornly at the stranger there who said, "You lookin' for Granite House, brother?"

Sniffing away the wetness, wiping his face, Todd nodded as he reached over and picked up the kitten by the scruff of the neck. "You got room for this little one? She's a real fuckin' mess."

The man smiled, a scar across his forehead wrinkling along with skin, "She sure do need a bath." Eyes on Todd. "Is your name, Manning?"

"Yeah," he rasped.

The man smiled and pulled out his cell. Dialed a number. Put his finger up for Todd to hold on. "Hey, yeah, he's here. All good, brother. He even gotta friend… a kitten. Yeah, talk soon." He put the phone away. "Your doc was real worried about you."

"I know."

The man smiled and said, "Give that little thing to me." He took the kitten into his large hands, saying, "We got room for both of you. You got a bag or something?"

"I don't even have any shoes. Gotta twenty though." The tears welled again and Todd cursed and laughed. "I got a lot of stuff I gotta get done, you know? I gotta save that cat's life, man. It's all I have."

Warm mocha eyes gazed at Todd, a serious expression blanketing kind features. "My name's Deshawn," he said, "We'll get you your stuff. We'll get started right away. Come on in. I got cat food inside, a bowl of milk. You're gonna be fine, just fine."

"Yeah, sounds good. Okay."

He opened the door and locked the truck and followed Deshawn inside the house. He was safe again.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you…_

… _I love myself too, a little more than I did yesterday._

* * *

Fayetteville's Granite House could be seen from the top of the hill where Jedediah stood alone after a long hike away from Destiny's compound. The sun beat down on his chestnut hair tinted with Michelle's red as he looked over the campus. Michelle had wept when he told her, madly, wildly, that he had to go, that he felt cooped up.

She'd grabbed him from behind, hanging on to him, "Please, Jed, please don't go back there. There's real freedom here from all the bindings of the city. Please."

Her last plea was whispered. She'd come around and squeezed his cheeks in between her warm palms, seeing him for who he really was, a child who'd grown up isolated from love, afraid of settling down for fear of disappointment. He clearly had his own addictions to contend with – an addiction to running.

"You'll know love here, Jedediah," she cried. "You'll learn to live in peace, in one place. I'll give you the security my mother took from you." She stopped, realizing he was shaking even though the sun was out and the temperature was soaring.

Caressing his arm, she asked, "What's wrong, honey? Tell me."

"I have to go, Mimi, I'm crawling out of my skin. I miss my girlfriend, I can't get any news about Todd. I'm terrified and yet…I want to be there. I want to face whatever it is that's waiting."

She lost her battle at that point. Michelle fought her whole adult life to protect him. And he'd grown into a man without her. She'd looked over the stretch of Destiny, her husband, Farris, waving to her as he lectured a gang of well-armed men. She'd have to decide whether to continue her life with Ferris or to follow her son.

"You'll always be able to contact me, Jed."

"How?"

"We have a place in town, a number. I'll give it to you. Always leave your information there so I know where to find _you_. I never want to lose you again."

He hugged her tightly, "I don't want to lose you either, Mimi."

The hug lasted even until now. He sniffled and stepped carefully down the hill towards the main drag of Fayetteville. The trees had thinned, the colors of the mountains muted, going from green to brown under the unforgiving rays of the summer sun. When he emerged onto Main Street, he felt the hominess of the place, the familiarity.

He walked a few blocks, grabbed a burger from a fast-food place with the money Mimi had given him, downing it with a cola, and headed to the bus station. He had enough for a bus ticket to Llanview. But first, he needed to know if there was any big news about Todd.

Rush hour hadn't hit yet and so the traffic was down. He walked to the nearest dispenser, jerked it hard the left, and yanked open the plastic window, grabbing a newspaper. A trick he learned from his buddies on the streets. He sat down at a nearby bench and flipped through the thing, finding nothing about Todd. Relieved he hadn't found anything, he tossed the paper aside. He counted the bills his mother gave him. Three hundred dollars worth. Plenty for a bus ticket. Put the money back into his backpack.

When he looked up, he saw a kid getting off a bus, the kid looking to be near his age, chubby, and wearing grubby, grease-stained clothing due to a penchant for Cheetos, candy and truancy. Jed chuckled and shook his head, smiling.

His old friend, Nelson, caught Jed's eye and dropped open his mouth in shock. The two shook hands gruffly and closed their reunion with a hard hug, hands slapping backs, and arms.

"Whoa, man! Can't believe it – it's been too long, dude." Nelson's freckles had only deepened in the year since Jed had seen him last.

"Hey, you know what it's like, gotta keep moving."

The two chatted for a long while on the benches in the bus station, watching the workers coming and going, glad not to be part of the daily grind. They stole sandwiches off a cart when the owner wasn't looking, nicked drinks from another cart. They read stolen magazines and generally acted as they'd always acted.

"So what's going on with the rest of the guys, get me up to speed," Jed demanded over a shared bag of chips as they sat at the very end of the station, away from prying eyes. "I told you about Aaron. How's David and Gassy?"

Nelson laughed, "I never get tired of that nickname…poor Percy…heh…"

"Remember that night at Laughing Corner? Dude couldn't stop farting!"

"He earned the name, man. Dude had a serious bowel problem."

"So what's he up to?"

"Art school in New York City, can you believe it? Comics are his specialty – of course. He's definitely going places. Already been published in some major magazines and newspapers. Graduated Fayetteville High in the fall, got special entrance in the spring semester at the art school. Parents were relieved as hell. And David, well, he's back at Juvie – you knew he couldn't last."

"What the hell?"

"Got caught boosting a truck from old Tanner's place. Piece of junk. Stuck in Juvie until he's 21 all for a 1970 Chevy with bad transmission, sucky shocks, and a leaky gas hose. He thought it was a 'classic.' He wasn't going to get much – so when he tried to put the truck back, he got caught. After all he managed to pull off, too. He was doing real well in the chopping biz. Anyway, he's bumming."

"And you?"

"Eh, still at the progressive school. Can't wait to get outta there. When I'm done, I'm gonna try Los Angeles. Gonna surf my way to fame and fortune."

"Have you ever even been surfing, dude? I mean, like where in West VA can you surf?"

"Well, what the hell is L.A. for? Gonna learn me some surfing! Then I'll get famous!" After they laughed good and hard at Nelson's absurd logic, he asked as casually as he would ask someone to dinner.

"Hey, wanna smoke? Got some good bud, _bud_."

Jedediah's eyes lit up at the thought, "You serious?"

"Hell, yeah."

"Cool, yeah, let's go."

The two walked away, an arm over each other's shoulders, laughing like boys often do.

* * *

Hours later, Jedediah was lying on an old mattress, looking blissfully at a bright night sky through the skeletal ceiling of the abandoned factory. Glass windows all along the sides of the building had long been shot out, the original machinery within having been stolen or sold at auction. Light came from lamps and small bonfires.

The place was so big and airy that the chances of carbon dioxide poisoning were nil. Nelson had said the smoke he'd given Jed was marijuana, but there had to be something more there because staring at the stars through the slats seemed like a perfectly good thing to do even though he originally had wanted to get to Llanview as soon as possible.

Doing nothing was… _brilliant_.

He felt amazingly at peace, great, so relaxed. As relaxed as he'd been in months. Years maybe. In the end he figured it was just really good weed. Maybe from Malaysia or India or something. As he looked about, he saw there were ten or more teenagers here, all lying on a lot of mattresses and blankets, all being equally as productive as he was. He chuckled at how great it all was, how glad he was to have broken away from Destiny. It wasn't that the compound was such a bad place, and he sure as hell loved being with his mother after all these years, they had a lot of making up to do, but the whole organic, healthy, hymn-singing, book-thumping lifestyle had gotten to be damn claustrophobic. They put him to work, too, hard work tilling land and harvesting corn and cabbage and potatoes. Not that the hard work was bad, but…the underlying philosophies of isolation and independence through violence had worn thin.

He admitted he missed Mimi. For a second or two he considered hiking back. For a second. Maybe two. No, he couldn't take another day of Destiny mentality. Aaron had argued intensely with Jed over the right-wing militia mindset. They were hardly speaking at the end because Jed had ended up accusing Aaron of essentially being a traitor to the United States.

"What, you're just gonna shoot your way to Canada, you freak?!"

"They're rapists, man, this government rapes us by forcing us to pay taxes and go to their schools and read their books and taking away our guns. Even home schoolers have to toe the line! You've so bought into their shit."

"By wanting a life in the city?"

"Yeah, man, by wanting to be a part of the rat race."

"You don't know anything, Aaron. There isn't any _rat race_ …it's all about fucking survival. Just wanting to be a little bit happy. But this…you're a traitor, a goddamn communist."

At which point, Aaron turned in a huff, flipped Jed off, and that was that. He knew Michelle's original reasons for being there, but in truth, Aaron had no reason other than baseless rebellion, bad parents. He didn't know nothin' about nothin' as Brandy would say.

 _Brandy_. He wondered where she was.

He rolled over and looked at his friend Nelson who gazed back at him with a dumb smile on his face. "How long have we been here, man?"

"Dunno."

"What was in that blunt…"

"You like it?"

"Fuck, yes. Fuck, YES."

Nelson laughed. "Special blend, my friend. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about. Welcome to paradise, dude!"

"You idiot," Jed laughed. "This is hardly paradise."

"Shut up, man, and have another hit off the pipe." He reached across the mattress and picked up a glass pipe, handing it to Jed who was more than happy to take it.

Jed flicked the old Bic lighter and breathed in the delicious smoke as he burned the green flecks in the bowl. He hummed when he let out the trail of smoke, never having stuff this good before.

In a voice that sounded far away, Nelson sighed, "Yeah, you got it…"

"That is…so…good."

The factory rolled around Jed in precious, blue waves. He swam in an ocean of love and acceptance and slipped into a dream starring Mimi, Todd, Téa, Destiny, and all his old friends. He was home, here on the streets of Fayetteville.

Somewhere deep inside of him, though, lurked a darker sensation, a memory of Phillip drugging him. And he remembered that Phillip took _indecent_ pictures of him. He remembered seeing them. Disgusting shots. He fought off the drugged haze to be sure he was safe, to be sure nobody was going to abuse him like that. He said too much, aloud.

"I'm really fucked up – nobody's going to do nothin' to me, right? Shit's happened before…did stuff…"

Nelson got close to him and said, "Hey it's okay, man. We're all cool here. Cops leave us alone, you know? They'd rather us be here than on the streets. Nobody's going to do nothing to you that you don't want. _This_ is freedom, man. Real fuckin' freedom. Not that shit Aaron was shoving onto you."

"My destiny," he said, then added without thought, "Malaysia sure has good shit…"

The night drifted away and so did another day and another night and another day. He was going to get Llanview. He would get there.

Just after one more hit of the best weed this side of the Mississippi.

 **To be continued….**


	25. Chapter 25

_**Note from Author: Thank you, Edgefire and Tessaray for your comments! They warm the cockles of my heart! Only a few chapters left and yeah, off to Caged 3. What will I do when it's all over? LOL Many hugs to you and my other readers. :)**_

 **On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 25**

The man who walked through the precinct's doors was clearly a man with intention.

Bo looked up and to his amazement saw Todd Manning _strutting_ down the hallway, flanked by his people. Shoulders back and eyes sharp, Todd was dressed in a brand-spankin' new, black Armani suit with Italian black shoes and an obligatory plum-colored silk shirt open at the top. Right behind him was his lawyer, George Strauss, looking as mussed as ever, as grey as ever, but with a gaze that said he was ready to kill, legally speaking that is. Next to him walked Dr. Timothy Graham with a thick medical file under his bulky arm, ready to offer as much psychological analysis not only of Todd but of Brandy, too. Bo wondered if the poor prostitute was going to take the fall for this train wreck.

He stood when Todd reached his desk. "Todd Manning, color me knocked for six. You sure bounce back well."

"I try," he said in a smooth, even voice. Clear eyes greeted the Commissioner, pain well hidden. The fractured eye socket bore not even a shadow of a bruise. His color was better. The badly damaged hand had shed the bandaging. He even looked as though he put weight back on.

When Bo took a second glance at Todd, at a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he remembered this person from years back, someone cunning, ready to do what he had to do to save himself a whole lot of misery he never felt he deserved, even if he did do the crime. That was the Todd Manning Bo remembered.

"Where are you staying, Manning? I haven't seen you at Viki's and I saw Téa the other day alone at the diner. You at the Penthouse?"

"Granite's halfway house," Todd said plainly, the polite smile gone. Bo knew he was on the offensive. Everyone walked in silence, anxious to get to the meeting. The preliminary hearing had been postponed yet again, a sign of weakness on the prosecutor's part. The case wasn't going well and Todd knew it.

The conference room was full of sunlight, as if the day was making a joke of his possible future. Prison wouldn't offer this much light, not where he would end up. No doubt he'd be stuck in solitary due to his background, to his high profile status. No light where he'd be going.

Todd's thick police files acted the centerpiece to the large table in the center of the room. George clapped him on the shoulder, saying softly, "Grit your teeth, buddy, do what we talked about."

Hank Gannon sat at the table, Todd across from him. Another man joined them who looked to be a federal agent, probably from the FBI. Hard to deny with the serious suit, the plain face, the short, clipped brown hair and the steel blue eyes.

The door shut.

"I'm Richard Donaldson, U.S. Attorney. We're here to talk about the death of Jack Neederman, a federal agent murdered while on duty in your motel room. This opens up a window for first degree murder with special circumstances, in federal court, which means the death penalty."

Todd said nothing, appearing unmoved by the heavy talk. Tim plopped his file onto the table, crossing his arms. He was not so chill.

George responded, "Name's Strauss and I'm representing Todd Manning. Good to know you're out in force, protecting fine American citizens such as Phillip Manning, child molester, rapist, and murderer. And his groupie, Jack Neederman, a truly bad cop? Glad to know you're protecting them from Todd Manning, upright citizen and business owner who does admit to a mild drug problem. Good for you, _Dick_. Now for the disclaimers. This is a plea-bargain negotiation with the state prosecutor and with the feds. Anything and everything said within these four walls is solely for the purpose of negotiating a deal and therefore can't be used against my client at any time henceforth for as long as any of us shall live. This will permit him to speak freely in his own defense, to comment, to eke out a deal without fear of reprisal. This negotiation will end and so will the protections when we walk out these doors. We clear on that?"

"Crystal," Donaldson said.

"Fine with us," Hank chimed in.

"Excellent, gentlemen. Please begin at any time with the dog and pony show."

Donaldson sat down and like a card dealer in Atlantic City, tossed out Brandy's crime scene photos. "Why don't we look at these for a bit, then we'll talk about who needed protection from whom."

Todd laid eyes on them, bit his tongue, stomach lurching. All he could hear was his ragged breaths, in and out, in and out.

There were six shots all together from the motel room, large and in splashing color on glossy paper. Neederman was laid out on his back, a single shot to his neck, right above the Kevlar. Bled out in less than a minute. Different angles on Brandy, her crumpled body, bent arms and legs, black hair covering her face, clothes torn up, blood all over. The green carpet lay beneath her, swampy black. Todd could taste the fibers that he'd grabbed at with his teeth when they finally prevented him from moving to her. He could hear himself screaming, fighting the cops, feeling their clubs on his back to subdue him. Even now, he felt the panic, the desperate need to get to her.

He turned slightly, catching Tim's eyes for a second.

"Fuckers," he mumbled, huffed, as he shoved his chair back, giving him space from the table. "I had nothing to do with the shooting of Neederman. Brandy did that on her own." He motioned to the pictures with the barest of nods, "And your men did _that_ to her in retaliation."

"That's what you say," Donaldson said. "Let's take a look at these. The autopsy photos."

Like cards again, he tossed more photographs towards Todd. Color again. The first showed a coffin-positioned Brandy on a silver table, a pale brownish tone to her, stone-colored really, blackish-grey holes all over her body, a life ripped apart by the bullets. Her face was unrecognizable thanks to death having settled into her bones. The others showed the steel table beneath her naked ravaged body. All her injuries were detailed, including bruises around her neck and on her arms that didn't come from bullets and on her inner thighs, a strip of cloth covering her genitalia. The last picture did not cover that up, showing injuries there too.

Todd glanced at them, looking away, expressionless. The only indication that these shots bothered him was his tight jaw.

"And how about these?"

Cards again, tossed in front of Todd. Booking shots from the Fayetteville jail. These he didn't expect. He stared at his own damaged face, cold eyes, and hard-set mouth. They hadn't hit him with the gun yet, that took place after the shots. There was nothing weak about this guy, nothing kind or considerate or empathy-inducing. There was no sad little boy here.

With these pictures alone, a jury would convict him not only for the deaths of Phillip, Neederman and Brandy, but for all the unsolved murders over the past several years. He rolled his eyes and looked at the pictures documenting his tattoos. The scratches on his shoulders, he didn't understand. When did that happen? This tended to show a change in Brandy, suggesting she fought him off. Couldn't be. She had said as she always did, in her way, _go ahead and kill me._ He breathed out and ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair. Getting that distance again. He swallowed hard.

Goddamn that she was dead. Goddamnit.

Donaldson had gotten up and walked around the table, sitting on a chair right next to Todd. "You know what we see?" he said, "A pimp or an abusive, dominating lover, coercing his woman to do the shooting."

"Come on," Todd groaned. "I was all about the dope. If I knew she had a gun-"

"Remember, Gentlemen, anything Manning says is made in the furtherance of a negotiation and is not to be used against him outside this room."

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead, Manning, tell us how you were all about the heroin."

He was quiet some moments, eyes on all the photographs, legs long and spread. His shoulders though were no longer straight… he hunched, as if punched in the gut. To Bo's surprise, he spoke clearly, and humbly. There was no arrogance or snappiness or sarcasm. "She had drugs, and I wanted them. End of story. I didn't find any gun, had no access to a gun, had no interest in a gun. You can't tie me to that gun in any way. I did not make Brandy do anything. She was the last person I wanted to see outside Granite."

"Explain the scratches on your body, the bruises on hers." He reached across the table and grabbed a copy of the autopsy report. "What does line 9 say?"

Todd reviewed the report and put his head back at what he read, running a hand through his hair again, tossing the report back on the table.

"Go ahead, read it aloud."

He reluctantly sat up and glanced down at the paper. "Vaginal bruising," he said softly.

"She do that to herself, Manning?"

"Fuck you. I did not beat her into pulling the goddamn trigger on your bastard of an agent. You know what he did to her? He threatened her, beat HER into submission. When she got to me, she was terrified. She had a beef with him, her very own. You don't have a single thing to show a jury. I'll cop to misdemeanor possession of a needle 'cause that's all you got. Even the drugs you have aren't what she brought me. I dumped them."

"We have a witness to a fight between you and Brandy on the street. Our witness will testify that you slapped her and pulled her hair and pushed her towards the motel room. Story is she begged you to stop, fought you off, and you wouldn't."

Todd laughed bitterly, "You're desperate now, _Dick_."

George laughed, too, "Lying about witnesses doesn't get you anywhere."

The agent sat back with his arms out, "Lying?"

Timothy Graham cleared his throat and said, "Yes, lying. Brandy incited violence, in private, in order to garner the negative sexual attention she craved. They never fought that way outside private space. Additionally, Brandy never asked him to stop. It was not part of her psychopathy. She wished to die at his hands, asked for it repeatedly. He would not accommodate her. Yes, your witness is lying, or you are."

The words hit Todd deeply and he dropped his head, a flood of shame tearing him up. He sighed and found it hard to look at anyone. Without a lot of analysis, he deserved prison. It was hard in this very second to not simply cop to all of it.

 _Yeah, I did it, I killed her._

Donaldson looked at Hank, "Can you believe this? Since when does a federal agent lie?"

Todd seemed to rally at that, actually smirking, "Since when does the American government lie? Did you actually ask that question?" He chuckled bitterly and then said in a distinctly unsmiling tone, "You don't have anything on me." He hesitated before talking, "I loved Brandy. She and I came from a similar place. We got into a bad place, like what the doctor says. I admit that. It was wrong, but I never forced her to do anything. Especially not to shoot an agent. That's… _crazy_."

"Tell us about the scratches. She had your DNA under her fingernails."

"She didn't scratch me, ever. I can't explain that other than maybe your cop did that to me. Maybe your coroner put my blood on her fingernails. You faked the drugs, you faked the scratches."

"What about bringing you drugs? We know she was your main supplier. She as much as told us that on tape."

"She brought them to me on her own. She had her contacts, I had mine. I never forced her. And I certainly didn't beat her into doing anything. In fact, I encouraged her to get help, to fix herself, for us to get out of our groove. I encouraged her to go to Viki, even that morning. And that tape you mention…did you record the threats against her or did it conveniently get lost?"

"There weren't any threats against her!"

George spoke up, "Oh really? Huh…maybe you should listen to this." He pulled out a small tape recorder and flipped it on. What played was a phone conversation recorded at Viki's house while Brandy had been staying with her. Todd knew what was on the tape but hadn't heard it himself. The sound of Brandy's fragile, bird-like voice tore into him and he took a breath, turning away. His eyes prickled with remembrance. He was looking right at her… that dress… that hair… her delicate smile.

" _Sorry, I didn't get to the machine on time, hello?"_

" _Brandy Night, that you?"_

" _Yeah, sure is, what you want?"_

" _This is Jack Neederman. We met."_

" _Oh yeah, that's right. You asked me questions about Phillip."_

" _That's right, Phillip Manning. And you've been tight-lipped."_

" _They ain't nothing tight about me."_

" _Cute. But listen honey, we need you to cooperate. We know you're selling drugs to Todd Manning, we know you're a conduit to a big dealer. We know you had a big hand in killing Phillip. So, how about we cut a deal. You give us Todd for Phillip's death, we give you your freedom."_

" _I can't do that. He didn't do nothin' wrong."_

" _Ms. Night, bad things happen to young women on the streets. You know that, right?"_

" _I don't know nothin' 'bout nothin', Mr. Neederman."_

" _You had better start cooperating. We'd hate to see something bad happen to you. Real bad."_

The tape stopped and Donaldson breathed hard through his nose. "That's not a threat, that's interrogation."

"Not to Brandy it wasn't," Tim said. "She only knew violence at the hands of men, especially men in dominant positions such as police officers. Since she was eleven years old she was a prostitute. She often serviced police officers in order to keep working. She'd been raped numerous times by police officers. Neederman knew what those words would mean to her because he and I talked about her. He meant to frighten her, to put her in fear of her life. And she was. When Neederman showed up at the motel with those other officers, she saw no hope. Not from anything Todd did to her, but because of Neederman. She had a gun for protection against a man who was no better than Phillip Manning, or any other dominating male in her eyes."

"Speculation."

"Based on her mental status. Here, take a look at these summary reports of several conversations I had with her as her psychiatrist." Like another card dealer, he flicked copies of a report to Hank, Bo, and Donaldson.

The agent asked, "If she was afraid of all dominating males, Manning would be at the top of the list. Makes sense that she'd do what he wanted her to, including killing Neederman."

Tim glanced at Todd who was looking at the agent, listening like the others, not showing a stitch of emotion.

"Todd was a 'brother' to her," Tim explained. "She wanted his violence because he normally wouldn't give it to her-his attention was unique in her eyes. She encouraged him, incited his violence, because she believed his aggressive response, often sexual, was love. She wasn't afraid of him because in her eyes, he loved her. In her mind, he wouldn't outright kill her, not unless she wanted it. To Brandy that was safety. Read my reports."

The talk was too raw, too plain. Todd felt himself breaking inside, the poker face harder to maintain. Muscles in his shoulder twitched and a pain ran down the back of his throat, down into his gut. The pictures hummed on the tabletop. He rested fingertips on Brandy lying on the steel table, unmoving, her eyes closed, skin smooth as a statue's marble. She didn't look real.

"Similar to some dominant-submissive relationships," Tim said quietly.

"Except with those," Hank offered, "you have people simulating violence. In this case…"

"It was real," Todd finished. "But I didn't control her with it. It was never to get her to do anything. I gave her the pain she wanted – she took the pain I wanted to give." He seemed to be in control again.

"Nice," Donaldson said.

"Gentleman," George said, "we have a lot of psychological bullshit here with one very fucked up man and his very fucked up girlfriend but not one ounce of evidence against my client that proves he had anything to do with the killing of Neederman which led to the death of his girlfriend. And we haven't even talked about Phillip Manning's demise. Go ahead, hit me."

Hank Gannon came to the table, passing out autopsy pictures of Phillip's remains, a knife in an evidence bag, and several reports, one regarding the dental records, one outlining the arson theory, and one proving Brandy's fingerprint on the knife. He ran down the evidence like a pro and when he was finished he sat back and sighed.

George chirped, "That it? Seems like you have Brandy on the hook for a stabbing that may or may not have killed him. Arson is awful weak there, too. No fingerprints on the gas can, no starter found. You have an eyewitness to Todd being with someone who resembled Phillip but not a positive i.d. I think we're done here."

"Well, we've got one last witness – he'll close the deal," Donaldson said. "He can testify to the brutal relationship you had with Brandy, he'll testify to your drug use, and he's got quite the story on the murder of Phillip Manning."

"You don't have him," Todd said, knowing who they were talking about. "More lies."

"Jedediah Chant will testify against you.'

"Won't happen."

"Dig your feet in all you want, Manning. You may only be up for misdemeanor possession of a needle, but Jedediah has a host of charges pending against him, including possession of heroin with intent to sell."

"He only tried to help me…you know damn well trace amounts of dope don't get intent to sell."

"No, you don't understand. Your son is under the watchful eye of an inside man." Donaldson dragged a file folder close to him and pulled out some shots. Black and whites taken from a surveillance camera. Todd grabbed the pictures.

"Yeah, Mr. Manning, you see…here, he's purchasing heroin…then…voila, he's selling it to an undercover cop. Dead to rights."

Now Todd broke. He threw the pictures at Donaldson, "Bullshit! You're setting him up! He doesn't touch heroin! He'd rather die first!"

"Nope, he's doing this all on his own."

His breath picked up and he held his head. George growled, "What the hell do you want?"

"Significant jail time. Then we'll let the kid off."

Bo Buchanan rarely empathized with Todd but things had changed since he'd hobbled out of the hospital, unwired, unprotected, willing to risk his life for his son. Bo had walked the burned out, darkened tunnels beneath the city, walked the path Todd and Brandy and Phillip must have taken. That had been brave work. This was dirty play on the fed's part, using the kid. Hank eyed Bo, clearly in agreement. He watched Todd, wondering what his next move would be. No way would he just lie down. Come on, Manning, be cagey, he found himself thinking.

George was shaking his head, slammed his hand on the table, "Hell, no. He's not doing jail time for possession of a goddamn syringe!"

"Fine," Todd said, interrupting. "But you let the kid go. Get him to a safe place…and let him go."

Donaldson took out a sheet of paper. Placed it in front of Todd for a signature. Bo was stunned. He fired looks at George, Tim, and Todd. He's gonna just take that?

"How much jail time?" Bo asked.

"Five to fifteen, eligible for parole after five. We're not talking possession of a syringe. This is for murder of Phillip Manning and of Neederman. It's a hell of a deal."

Todd sniffed and read the paperwork. Breathed deeply the scent of the conference room, getting a whiff of books and diesel fuel from outside and cologne that Tim wore. He almost smiled and turned to his friend, feeling a sudden rush of sentimentality and loneliness. He wanted to rest his head on Tim's shoulder and cry like a child. He'd not spoken to Téa in the month since he saw her at the hospital. Viki kept him up to date, she was good, recovering. No talk of the baby. She was attending meetings for families of addicts, continuing her volunteer work at the needle exchange. Learning that Serenity Prayer. He studied the picture of Jedediah purchasing…something. Then selling…something. The pictures weren't dated. They weren't fucking dated.

"When were these pictures taken?"

"A week ago."

"I thought all charges were dropped against him and Téa."

"They were…these are new charges."

"I need time," he said.

"No way. You're gonna run. You agree to this, you get cuffed today. You get shipped to prison _today_."

"I need to say my goodbyes before being carted to the big house. I want full assurances on Jedediah's release. I want signed paperwork giving him immunity from everything through today."

George placed his hand on Todd's shoulder, "We need to talk outside."

"No, it's okay. I can't have my kid going down that way," Todd said, putting his hand up, the motion telling George to back off.

Donaldson smiled like a cat, the edge of triumph shading his mouth. He hunted for a pen and handed it to Todd.

"Please, on the dotted line."

Todd took the pen in his hand and re-read the document, George sighing heavily in the background, whispering something to Tim before saying in a firm voice, "Manning, don't sign that thing. Don't give away your freedom."

Todd put his hand up again, "Shut it." Suddenly, he got active, violently crossing out the paragraphs, initialing each slash. He then scrawled his own paragraph of something and signed on the bottom line, just like _Dick_ told him to. Todd leaned back in the chair, keeping his eyes on the agent as Donaldson grabbed the sheet.

Huffing in fury, he scanned the paper, reading the words aloud and breathing hard as he did so, "'You don't have me. You don't have my son. Fuck you and your…'" He stopped and rubbed his lips with his hand, grunting and then saying in a low tone, "'Fuck you and your cunt of a mother. Signed, Todd Manning." He threw the paper across the table and got right into Todd's face, poking his finger hard into the center of his chest.

" _You_ …are responsible for the deaths of those people! Your son knows it and the jury will know it because they WILL see you for what you are: nothing but a murdering junkie who belongs in prison for the rest of his worthless life! You _will_ pay."

Glaring at Donaldson hard, Todd growled, "You don't have my kid. He's been missing for nearly two weeks. If you caught him selling drugs like you say, he'd be standing in this room right now. See you in court, you self-righteous bastard. You're gonna go home with your tail between your legs."

He paused as he got his feet, getting into Donaldson's face and hissing, "And when you get home, I'm gonna hack that tail off and shove it so far up your ass you're gonna fuckin' _choke_."

With that, Todd got up, jerked open the door and slammed it shut, the windows in the room reverberating with the shock. Bo couldn't help it. He burst out laughing and said to Hank, "Now that's the Todd Manning I know! Goddamn does he bounce _back_!" He laughed hard in his seat not because he had empathy or sympathy with a guilty man, but because he saw the larger picture, one of survival. He could not deny the awe he felt at seeing someone survive unbelievable odds, over and over again. When he caught his breath, he said, "Sorry, Donaldson, I'm sure you have a good chance at putting him away. Oh…man…good luck at your trial."

Tim and George gathered their stuff in silence. Tim shuffled out the door, hoofing it after his patient. George stood to say his goodbyes but before he could say anything, Donaldson scowled and grumbled to Bo, "You sound like you're hanging me out to dry."

Hank answered, "The evidence is weak at best. We got very little to use here – lots of circumstantial, but nothing concrete. Even if we do get Chant, chances are he'll never testify against Manning. And without Chant…we got nothin'. So yeah, for now, the charges are dropped. Manning is a free man." He eyed George, "Not that we can't resurrect them at a later date."

The lawyer was pleased with the outcome. Things had gone as he'd expected. The preliminary hearing for the state was off-calendar. The feds would have indict Todd first before there'd be a new preliminary hearing. Todd had gotten significant time, all right. _Free._ He shook the hands of Bo and Hank, Donaldson refusing to offer the courtesy. The lawyer wasn't convinced this was totally gone, but it was for now.

When he got to his car, Todd and Tim were there.

"Not the way I usually do things but we do have breathing room," George said. "You did real good in there," he added as he shook Todd's hand. He then climbed into his old car and began to drive away. He had an afternoon appearance in a nearby city representing a group of nuns on disorderly conduct charges. Protestors, he'd explained.

Once George was gone, Todd's armor cracked a little, his eyes softening when he looked at his doctor, his body hunching once again, defeat all over.

"Those pictures," he said softly. "What did she think would happen when she pulled out that gun?" The pictures of Brandy had gotten to him and he wanted to just curl up with his cat on his bed at the halfway house and pity himself. Pity her. He took a breath and gazed at his doctor. He had important things to do but this… this was gutting him.

Tim shook his head, "Wish I could tell you. I don't have a clue other than maybe some misdirected effort at protecting you, herself?"

Todd glanced away, knowing he'd never know. "Tim," he then said, "I'm leaving the halfway house."

"What? Why…? Kiddo, is that such a good idea?"

"I gotta find Jed before the cops get to him. Not for me, but for him. I want him to say what he wants, not what they force him to say. And you know they're going to press him hard, they're gonna give him an impossible choice. I don't think he'll be able to handle it. He's just a kid."

"I can't stop you, can I?"

"No."

Tim sighed and put his hand on Todd's arm, squeezed tightly, "I'm here if you need me. Please, please keep your sobriety. I'm very concerned."

"No need to be. There was a time when not doing heroin wasn't an option. I don't feel that way anymore. This is the real deal."

Tim wasn't convinced, but there was little he could do with Todd's intentions. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm not going to let Jed down."

They spent more time together, talking coping skills, Tim repeatedly offering his availability, that he wasn't alone in all this. Then the conversation was over and Tim offered a hug and Todd took it, having to force himself to separate. From inside his black BMW, Todd then watched Tim leave. The underground parking lot was quiet again, empty of people. He put his head down on the steering wheel and let himself finally cry for his sister-whore, so ruined by those cops. Let the panic over her dying rush over him. Felt his chest tighten and fear choke him. Imagined breaking through the hold of the cops and racing to her, holding her…stopping all those bullets. Be a real life Superman.

When he was done with the horror show, he wiped his face. Rubbed his hair back and picked up the cell phone. Jedediah was in big trouble. Michelle had contacted him late the night before in her own panic. Jed was supposed to have been in Llanview, he was supposed to have left word of his whereabouts.

Two weeks since he left Destiny and not a peep.

He had another someone to call who would give a damn about Jed. She answered immediately, her voice light and airy. He smiled at the sound of it.

"Hey Delgado."

"Todd…" The lightness had disappeared, a thread of fear, sadness, hurt breaking through.

"Have you heard from Jed?"

She hesitated, "No. Why?"

"He's missing, Téa. Took off from Destiny for Llanview and never showed up."

"Oh no…"

"Look, the cops want him again…because of me."

He ran down the events of the morning, the status of the murder cases against him. "They're going to pressure him, they'll hurt him. I can't let them do that. So I need to find him and I want you to come with me. Please."

"I can't…no…"

He was determined. "Téa, I'm begging you. I need to help my kid but he won't trust me even though I'm sober. He may not come to me. He needs more than just me…he'll need you."

"What about Michelle?"

"She's afraid and a little crazy and thinks it's safer to stay in Destiny in case Jed's trying to get back there."

The families-of-addicts meeting had only just gotten underway and a mother of an addicted daughter turned to Téa, motioning to her to step outside with the phone. Téa smiled at her, apologizing as she got up and hustled to the back of the room. The daughter had been missing for six weeks and while the mother was sure she'd turn up, there was the fear that she was dead. Téa gripped the phone. Todd was very much alive. Miraculously. He asked her to come with him, to save another child. How could she turn him down? She couldn't turn her back on Jed.

"Fine," she said. "I'll see you at the Penthouse."

"Thank you," Todd whispered.

 _Let me trust that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will._

 **To be continued...**


	26. Chapter 26

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 26**

 _The white walls of the outpatient surgical room scream sterility and resolution. A row of glass jars lines a nearby countertop. Doctor-like equipment stares at her, witnesses behind glass at an execution – cotton balls, wrapped syringes, wooden swabs, latex tubing. She lies back on a bent bed with her feet in stirrups, feeling nothing in her heart or body or mind. She watches the process unfolding from above, looking down at her own impassive face, at her still-slender self draped in cotton. The gown she wears has blue checks, empty boxes. The pattern reminds her of the checkered floor in the kitchenette of Brandy's apartment. She sees_ him _on that floor, in a fetal position, reaching for nothing, blood running down an arm. The aloneness is all-consuming. There is nobody on this earth that can help him. As if he knows this, he pulls into himself, adrift, high._

 _She touches her belly and thinks of the child deep within her, relying on her, having nobody to reach for, other than her. This child can be helped, saved, protected._

 _This child…isn't alone._

 _A voice breaks the hypnotic moment and Téa is slammed back into her body, firmly in the present, "We're ready to terminate the pregnancy, Ms. Delgado. Are you ready?"_

* * *

When Téa arrived at the Penthouse from the families-of-addicts meeting, her hair hung in lifeless clumps, her nerves were rattled, and her silk sundress stuck to her skin as if she was in the heart of Puerto Rico. Emptiness greeted her like an old friend. The familiar quiet comforted her – there'd be no battle, no surprises, nothing to disappoint or excite or disrupt. For a few minutes she hoped Todd had changed his mind about taking her with him to West Virginia on his hunt for Jedediah.

Please, please, she thought, please say you've gone without me.

For the past few weeks, they had been ships in the night, passing one another, always missing each other. He seemed to know her erratic schedule, dipping in when she was out, to collect things, to leave them. She knew when he'd been there.

He always left a faint scent of cigarettes at his desk, a drained soda can on the buffet. Papers got shuffled and messages got played. His energy lingered in the rooms, ghost-like. And like a ghost, he scared her because despite everything, in the face of everything, she still wanted to save him, to be with him, to prove her devotion to…to something.

When she sensed his presence, she'd grab a blanket and curl up on her bed, close her eyes, refusing to bend to her natural will that he seemed to know.

And now…she'd agreed to jump into the fray again. Jesus, she sighed, what's wrong with me?

Breathing deeply to settle her insides and embrace the quiet, Téa checked for messages on the answering machine, listening to a couple of robocalls. She glanced at her cell for missed calls or voice mail. Nothing. Quickly, she checked e-mail. Nothing. Maybe he'd already gone. Two hours passed since he last called.

On the other hand, what about Jed? Maybe she should be crazy like Michelle and stay in the Penthouse, peeking out windows for monsters and waiting for Jedediah to return.

Téa retreated to her room, the guest room that had become hers. She was businesslike in her gathering of clothes and personal items, checking off a list, making sure she had jeans and a pair of hiking shoes in her bag for walking, a warm sweater for the cool summer nights of Fayetteville, and a notebook for her thoughts, for her fears. Téa had to write them out or else they'd eat her alive. Life seemed to do that lately – eat her up, spit her out.

She really should decline. She should stay home.

Thoughts of Jed danced in her mind as she packed, getting to him, getting him back safe and sound, and getting back to a routine. Do what's necessary, she told herself. Leave the complication of Todd out of everything, despite his presence, despite the maddening draw of his essential self.

When she finished packing, the mewing of a cat caught her attention. She stepped back in surprise at seeing a grey, mottled, skinny cat jump up on the bed, step across the flowery comforter, stretch, and lie across her pillow. The tail swayed back and forth, coquettish, alluring…like a hooker.

"Where'd you come from?" Téa moved aside rejected clothes and crawled closer to the cat, lying down to pet the speckled fur, feeling the softness. Her nice-fitting orangey dress, wrinkled from the hours at the meeting, rode up her legs. She felt exposed, raw.

"From the looks of you, I'd say you're from the street...looks like your ear's chewed up pretty good. Whose cat are you, anyway, hmm?"

"Mine," Todd said from the doorway, his voice deep and gravelly.

Her stomach jumped to her throat in a mix of fear, relief, disappointment…she didn't want to look at him. The sight would tell her too much, yet not enough. _Never enough._ She'd been fooled before by his prettiness while surprised at nobility beneath wretchedness. She'd become a most incapable judge.

"I found her in the city," he said, "that morning when you were in the hospital."

He sniffed and Téa wondered immediately if that was the sniff of a withdrawing addict or the remnants of snorted drugs. _In the city._ Meaning he left the hospital for Sixteenth Street.

"She's grown in two weeks, turned from a kitten to a teenager." Chuckled and said softly, "Don't let her get to your socks."

"You got a name?" Téa asked, the cat purring, the noise reverberating down into the bed.

"Rover."

"Better than calling her…" She caught herself, remembering things. "Moose," she said.

"Or Cat."

She didn't want to look at him, didn't want to feel him, didn't want the warmth of his body to get anywhere near her. She was doing this for Jed, she reminded herself while concentrating on the creature's purrs and keeping her eyes on the paws. She waited, watched for sharp claws. They eventually show. Even on the sweetest cats. Scratch skin up if something doesn't sit right with them.

"Truck's gassed up, my stuff's packed, got a few leads."

"And the cat? You can't leave her…she needs you."

The room was hot again. The air had clicked off. She sat up, lifting her hair off her neck. A wintry breeze would be nice right about now. She pulled her skirt down.

"Starr's coming to get her. If she likes her, she'll keep her. Otherwise she'll take her to the pound. Adoption."

"Not put her down?"

He said nothing at that, not liking her tone, something darker than euthanasia woven into her words, something cruel. Didn't want to give the suggestion room to take seed, grow. He promised the cat that she'd survive. He let his gaze dip to the silky dress that gripped Téa's spread-apart thighs. He felt her trepidation about going. Saw it in the messy room, in her inability to decide what to take. She didn't have to say anything. So far she'd managed to avoid his eyes. Not once had she looked in his direction.

Maybe this wouldn't work. He didn't want to ask her about…he didn't want to know what she'd done with the baby. Not yet. He thought the worst because she looked stronger, her arms and legs, muscular, peachy. She didn't seem to be ill in any way. Other than suffering the heat. Like he was. His tee-shirt stuck to his skin and the jeans felt thick, too heavy. She looked too beautiful to be in the throes of morning sickness…

He leaned against the doorway, a jolt of sadness shearing his insides. What was to come of them? Licked his dry lips and rubbed his hair back, saying, "So, yeah, you ready?"

 _Yes, I'm ready._

Saying nothing, she shrugged, nodded slightly. Finally raising her face to his, their eyes met. His breath caught at the thrill of looking at her face-to-face again, a stretch of want racing down to the center of his body. He dropped his gaze to her simple black sandals, back up her legs, then onto exposed cleavage and the shadow of a lacy brassiere under the soft folds of orange-red silk and a halter straps. The sight dried his mouth. Her brown eyes narrowed with distrust, making him want to sink to the floor in submission and kiss her feet, her calves. His mind moved ahead with the image…crawling to her on his knees, naked, raw, kissing her in between her legs until she screamed in mad, mad gratification. Licking parched lips, an addict's lust coursed through his veins. He looked out the windows behind her, then back to her face.

She broke his intense gaze and got off the bed. She went about tidying the clothes, putting things in neat piles. Asked about Kevin, whether he was on the hunt, too.

"Yeah, making calls. Keeping an eye on Bo."

"Good."

He missed her. He'd been coming to the Penthouse, sneaking in whenever she was gone, walking the halls, sniffing for her like a hound dog. He had the daytime doorman leave a short message for him when she left by car. Plenty of time to sweep the place, to get stuff he wanted, to read the mail, to remember what it was like to live with her. He'd sit at the desk, a lit cigarette in his mouth, pretending she was about to come home. Practiced what he'd say to her, the speech ending at, "Téa," a speech that never got started.

What was there to say that he hadn't already said? _Sorry. Promise to stay clean. I will never hurt you._

Blah, blah, blah.

She would spit every word he'd ever said to her, ever could say, right back at him. Vomit those words on him. Flash him pictures of a dead Brandy and dangle handcuffs. Shackles. Down, down, on his knees is where he needed to be, jerking his head with intention while thrusting a tongue deep inside of her, touching the core of her.

 _I am so…so fucking sorry._

Rubbing his face, he breathed to slow a burn that was fast leading to a completely inappropriate hard-on. The images were killing him. He wanted to be high. He missed it like hell. It was just a thought. Heroin ideas didn't quite torment him anymore. In his head and out, just like Gregory said back at Granite. Little heroin sparrows in and around a clock tower.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he said, "You're really coming, then?"

"Yes, I said I would. For Jed. Why wouldn't I?"

When Téa looked at him, at his recovering self, she saw he was in between worlds. He was healthy, but in his eyes she saw a _want_ there, desire, except she couldn't quite see what it is he wanted exactly. He appeared well-groomed, well-put-together in his meant-to-look-ratty expensive jeans, with his soft, equally-as-rich black tee-shirt. He had a goatee and moustache, set against a stubble-covered jaw line. He wore a watch she'd never seen before. A simple black band, classy silver face. Again, something high-end. His hair was growing out, too, longish. Cut nicely.

Yes, all a very pretty package, but his eyes were the dead giveaway. He wasn't covering the truth the way he did at Granite, on that day on the rocks. No, today there was pain, worry, fear, in the greens, browns and gold. Almost like before the relapse. Was that what was happening here? Another relapse? The _want_ is what got to her _._ Shivering with anxiety, the words, "I'm staying here after all," danced on her lips. She wanted to stay home.

She turned and flopped her suitcase closed, leaving it unzipped, leaving parted lips to a fabric-filled mouth. "I don't have much," she said. "Whatever I'm missing, I'll just buy up there."

"Spoken like a true princess."

"I'm not a _princess_."

He chewed on his lip and shrugged. "Sure you are…you deserve to be."

She didn't want to continue that line of conversation. "What leads do you have?"

Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms. "Umm…a couple of places he might be."

"How'd you get them?"

"I…uh…know someone who's pretty good at finding people."

"Who?"

He rolled his eyes and let out a soft, long breath. Pulled out a crumpled Camel from his pocket and searched for a lighter. Stuck the cigarette in his mouth after the search proved fruitless. Must have left it in the truck.

"Can we just go, Delgado? We got a lot of road to cover."

Téa crossed her arms now, looked at him suspiciously. Waited. The unzipped suitcase still stared at him, threatening really.

He evaded her query with an air of self-righteousness. "I knew him…from before…doesn't matter. Let's go." He strode to her suitcase and started to zip it, pressing down on it to squeeze in her ridiculous amount of clothing and extra shoes and make-up bags, plural, except she put her hand down on top, pushing at his arm and preventing him from zipping it further.

The two locked eyes.

"Who gave you the leads? Someone from the Sun? From Granite? Someone Viki knows?"

Her face pinched with impatience and she put a hand on her hip, defiance that caused an electric tingle to run up and down his spine. He'd never survive being a spy if captors put her on interrogation duty. He played with the cigarette, pushing it from one side of his mouth the other. The suitcase's grin was now a pursing of its lips.

"Paulie Smith. Well, that's the name he uses for business."

Téa threw her hands upwards in sheer disgust. "Your _dealer_? Oh my GOD."

He got defensive anyway, ultimately not knowing why he felt so fucking compelled to tell her the truth, why he bent so easily beneath her. And her suitcase.

"Yeah, my _ex_ -dealer, okay? I'm not using, he's not selling."

"Oh Todd, no. No, no, no…" She started breathing hard, terror suddenly roping her in, pulling her under. He tossed the cigarette away and went to her, grabbing her by the arms, holding her tightly while she shook her head, "No, no, no."

"Téa! Stop it!"

She froze, refusing to look at him at first. But then she did, glaring at him without an ounce of mercy.

"You wanna get involved with HIM? After everything that's happened? The hell's wrong with you?! They'll charge you again! You like jail, Todd? You LIKE IT?!"

She turned her head and tried to pull away from him because things wanted to fly out her mouth that would hurt him, that would slay him, but he grabbed her a bit harder, pulling her closer to him, his head touching her hers, his breath hot against her cheek. She turned away, pushing against him. The two felt the tension right away of being near each other, even this way, even in the throes of anger. Maybe especially so. His light wounded eyes roamed her features, hers brown and liquid and full of fire searching for an out.

Softly he said, desperately he said, "I didn't have a choice – I can't call the cops up there – I needed someone under the radar, you know? Someone who knows the underbellies of cities."

He sighed in the pause, admitting a dark truth, his voice barely a whisper. "He found Jedediah the first time. I figured he could do it again."

The moment disintegrated. She gritted her teeth and looked him in the eyes, hissing, "He was hired to KILL your son. Jesus…let go of me!"

He did, like he'd been touching hot iron. He huffed and rubbed his face again. Muscles twitched throughout his body – he'd done the best he could to find the kid considering all that had gone down. He did. Why couldn't she see that?

She walked to her suitcase, unzipped it completely, and began throwing out the clothes. "Not doing this, not going up there to be made an ass of while you fall off the wagon, while you get carted off to jail, and I rescue your abandoned child. Alone. No way, no how. I'll call the police and let them handle Jed. They're not going to hurt him."

Spanish followed that he didn't understand. This was them, always slipping back to opposite sides. He got next to her and started throwing her tossed-out clothes back into the suitcase which got her to look at him.

"Not going with you, Todd. Not going to get sucked into another nightmare!"

"Listen to me," he said, the two stopping the clothing game. "Paulie isn't in Fayetteville. He's not going to risk his ass for mine. Fact is, he hates me, blames me for what happened to Brandy. If he had his way, I'd be dead right now. But he was willing to make calls for Jed's sake and he got some hits as to where kids Jed's age, kids like Jed, hang out—"

"And what makes you think that Paulie's not going to kill Jed to get back at you? Todd! You put your own son at risk now! Again! As always! Goddamnit!"

It was all she could do to not hit him. Smack him across the face. Get really violent. She let out an agonized groan… "I don't believe you. I just…don't understand your thinking."

They didn't move, stuck in this clash. Todd worked hard to control an urge to grab her again, to shake her until she understood his _thinking_. He knew that was a bad, bad instinct so he chose to use words instead to explain his innate willingness to trust a criminal, _a hitman,_ with the life of his kid, his only son. But he knew the absolute truth wouldn't come out.

"Téa…"

He didn't tell her that not only did he call Paulie, but went to see him at the End of the Road bar, and when he did, the cool voice on the cell had transformed into an unfathomable face of hatred, that within minutes of laying eyes on Todd, Paulie grabbed him by the jacket collar, dragged him to the bathroom, and slammed him up against the back wall. He shoved a gun in his face, the cold metal digging into his cheek. Twisted love for Brandy dripped off the guy.

 _You killed her, cocksucker, you're responsible. I oughta blow your fuckin' head off right now, right here…_

The room stank of piss and shit and sweat and tears and blood…familiar sickness. The trashed bathroom darkness embraced the two men, their hard breaths echoing off dank walls. Fact was nobody would do a goddamn thing if Todd got his brains blown out. He'd be nothing but week-long headlines in a tabloid. Paulie might even be a hero to some. If he got caught that is, and getting caught wasn't likely. Not at the End of the Road bar where witnesses didn't exist, where all patrons were blind, deaf and dumb.

 _I loved her, too, you know. I tried to stop it from happening. I did, Paulie, I really did._

Paulie had looked at Todd's spread-out hand, looked at the messed up palm, and took in the leftovers of a face from hell. Cocked the trigger of the pistol anyway. Held Todd like a worn-out boxer, the gun pushed hard under his chin. Todd had grabbed Paulie's shirt sleeves reflexively.

 _Paulie… come on..._

 _Should have been you, Manning, not my poor girl._

 _Don't you think I wanted to die when they killed her? Don't you think I wished they killed me instead? Don't you think I fucking TRIED to die?_

 _But you're still breathin' ain't ya? Just like always. Breathin' 'cause of her. She saved your pathetic life over and over…begged me to do the same. And she did it again in that motel room, threw herself in front of those bullets so they wouldn't get to you. And for what? So you could go on and fuck up your life some more? Fuck up the lives of everyone you touch?_

There was no denying the truth of what he said. Todd let go of Paulie and knocked his head hard against the wall, thinking of time spent in places like this, thinking on Brandy's sorry life…a life made even more so by him. He groaned in resignation, brought down to nothing once again. Protecting Jed, saving him…well, that was a last grab at decency.

 _Please, please help me find my kid again. You did it once, man…please…I know you can do it again._

 _I oughta kill you…that'd save your kid's life. Do him a fuckin' favor._

 _Yeah, maybe you oughta…_

' _Cept pieces of shit like you ain't worth the bullet._

If the guy didn't kill Todd when he had the chance, he'd never do it. And he certainly wouldn't kill Jed. Téa would never understand any of that because the opinion, the judgment, came from Todd's indisputably fucked-up point of view.

"Look, Paulie was the best path to Jed I knew, the safest. It doesn't make sense I know…"

"'Doesn't make sense'? Peanut butter on lemon doesn't make sense, two plus two equals five doesn't make sense, Kardashians being famous doesn't make sense…THIS…is batshit crazy, Todd. Sick. Completely off your rocker. We're talking about YOUR SON. You turned to the guy who was hired to KILL HIM. Are you hearing this?! Are you?!"

"Paulie won't hurt Jed. He's really…he's basically a good guy, you know? Protected Jed against Phillip. He… _loved_ …" Her name went unsaid. Todd looked away into the distance. "He loved her in his own way. Man like that wouldn't hurt Jed, I just know it."

Téa saw that he believed what he was saying. She could see the trusting boy beneath the man in his plea, a childhood and adulthood marred by immeasurable ugliness, the death of Brandy, their ruination. She saw it all. Such a very long and painful road they'd been on, leading them to this very moment. His expression was so earnest. _Jesus Christ._

Softening, she said, "Todd, for the right price _Mr. Smith_ would do anything. You were dying and he gave you drugs. He never stopped Brandy from prostituting herself. It was only because Cassie and Kevin were paying him that he protected Jed. Don't delude yourself. He isn't a good guy. Not at all."

Téa continued the unpacking. Todd reached and gently took her hand in his, seeing that she let him do that, and he touched her cheek to get her to look at him. She resisted, gazing at the clothing, then at the bright window, cool air finally coming in through the vents.

"He got a sighting of Jed early on at the bus station with some other kids, panhandling. Got another three days ago at Fayetteville's river resort, same kids, harassing the tourists until they got kicked out. Paulie told me of a few spots where homeless kids stay – one place looks really promising. I'm not getting back in bed with him, okay? Even if I wanted to."

"Funny choice of words."

"You know what I mean."

"I don't trust you. Or your judgment."

Todd chuckled, sadly, "No shit. What person in their right mind would?" After a moment, he added, "Which is exactly why I'm asking you to come. It's not for me…but for Jed. He won't trust me, same as you. But he will listen to you, trust you, believe you. Please, I want you to be there when I get to him." Sighing tiredly, "If we get to him."

"You mean, if Paulie hasn't already found him and killed him…thanks to you." Téa's face crumpled at the thought of Jed at someone's hands, and she murmured, "You … stupid man."

How many more times could the world turn its back on Jedediah? Phillip had hurt him, Todd had hurt him, his grandparents did, even his own mother. He didn't need any more pain. Someone had to be there, someone who didn't have some agenda in mind, someone…

"It was the only sure way I knew, Téa. Paulie would know exactly how to find him."

She jerked her hand away from his, raised her hair up into a ball. Closed her eyes. "Why's it still so hot in here?"

* * *

Jed had left his friends at one point, walked away from stolen goods, food, and beds, from that so-intense-it-had-to-be-more weed, ran away from the runaway lifestyle about five days into it. The intention had been to go to Granite, connect with Todd, and get a semblance of a life back with Summer in Llanview. He actually wanted to go back to school. He envisioned a future for himself. True independence. He really believed all the legal trouble had to have been taken care of…that Todd…fixed everything. Like he said he would. Afterwards, maybe he'd head out to New York City. Or Los Angeles. The world was his oyster, as they say.

"You don't even like oysters," he told himself, joking as he walked the main road to Granite, still a little high from the good blunt he'd been smoking earlier with the crew. Too good. But not good enough to keep him there.

Cars drove by. The sun beat down on him. He moved off the road. He didn't know what drew him to the side, behind the bushes. A fear maybe of cops. General habit. A desire for the shadows, shade. He'd been walking the dirt path behind the bushes, head down, a mile or so from Granite.

That's when he saw it.

A broken bracelet of black beads. A gold ring stuck in the middle. What luck, what coincidence. Hey, didn't Todd have something just like this? What coincidence that someone else would wear their wedding band in the same—

 _Holy shit._

He grabbed it up and held the two ends in his hands and hell if it wasn't Todd's very own bracelet. The inscription on the ring told him so. His bracelet that seemed to mean so much to him.

In the bushes.

On the side of a road leading to Granite. Or away from it.

He stared at the split-apart bracelet a long time. Wondered why it had fallen off here. There was other stuff. Other beads. Blue beads. Another broken string. A woman's necklace maybe. A map. Trash. Maybe there was no connection.

Jed looked up and watched a while down the road, the mess of beads and gold in his hand. Strange that the wedding ring would be left behind. Strange that Todd wouldn't have found it, wouldn't have torn apart the road looking for it.

But here it was. Sitting in the sun. Abandoned. Strange…

… unless Todd wasn't around to find it. Unless he didn't care about Téa or the wedding ring or the beads of sobriety.

Jed turned around and headed back to town. In an hour he was at the library, scanning the papers for news, any news. Reading the back pages. When he didn't find anything he dug for change and called Granite using a payphone in the hallway.

"Yeah, I'm looking for Todd Manning? Can I talk to him?" A pause. "I'm family, yeah, his nephew." Another pause. "What do you mean he's not there? He went back…he said he was going back, like weeks ago. Months." A pause. "A tragedy…what tragedy? What happened?" Another pause. "You have to tell me…please. I won't tell anybody you're breaking rules…please. Please just tell me."

 _Arrested for double murder. Possession of heroin. A death of a woman, a prostitute, and a cop. Never made it back to Granite_.

Jed had hung up the phone. Brandy had to be dead. The blue beads. A girl's craft-like necklace, the kind you make in places like Granite or other rehabs or Juvie. She had been in these classes with social services, making exactly that kind of shit. Learning to cook. That weird fucked up girl. Hopelessly fucked up. Jed had walked into the bathroom of the library and threw up. Sat on the floor of the stall and sobbed. It wasn't that he cared for Brandy so much… but that Todd had left them with so much promise on that hill, so much conviction in the promise. It was why Jed could return to the camp at all, in truth. He didn't trust Todd but… he believed in him. There was great future ahead of them after all, and Jed had a real shot at being just a kid growing up for a little while, learning to know his mom as a real person, getting to love her again, free of the worries of his bio-dad. He was going to continue with the healing, yeah?

Todd had grabbed Jed up in those last minutes, pulling him into a tight-breathless hug even though Jed had been kind of shitty to him. And in that hug, thick smoky love in it, hot breath in his ear, he said…

 _Jesus, I'm so sorry for everything. I love you, I love you. Don't forget that. Stay safe, kiddo. Please. I'll come back for you. I will._

That hug had lasted a long while as Jed made his way to Destiny once more. The words had echoed in his head for days and days. And then one morning, for the first time in ages, Jed had woken up, and smiled at the day. It was good… for a while. He knew what normal was… mostly.

Jed pulled himself together. Wiped the tears away. Washed his face. He left the library and went back to his friend Nelson at the abandoned factory, went to his old friends, a few new ones.

"Gimme some more of your shit."

Lying back, he looked at the stars that night…drifted as he munched on a carrot…as his friend finally admitted why the weed was so damn good, why everyone in the place was so fucking laid out.

 _Heroin-laced marijuana._

Jed laughed so hard, he fell off the crate he was on, then crawled into a corner and cried like the biggest fucking baby he knew.

Then he said, "Gimme some more. I don't believe you. Gimme some more."

"Freedom, man, total freedom," Nelson purred.

Black and blue beads floated in his dreams, in and out, lacing and unlacing, wrapping around his neck to the point where he couldn't breathe. He woke with a gasp, Summer's name on his lips and a new life beckoning to him. Rubbing his face, wiping his hands on his dusty jeans, he spotted his friend a few feet from him, beyond the pile of blankets and other still-sleeping kids.

"Let's go, sleepy head," Nelson said, grinning. "We got some green to raise."

 **To be continued…**


	27. Chapter 27

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 27**

The motels were full, the river resort in high season and tourists flooding Fayetteville. One room left in this one okay place and Téa laughed bitterly. Totally, utterly, unacceptable. But it was two in the morning and she definitely wasn't going to go hunting for rooms at this hour. She was exhausted.

"You have GOT to be kidding me," she said as she climbed out of the truck. It had been a long, silent drive. "One room. Unbelievable."

"Two beds," Todd said, trying to appease some part of her agony. "Nothing to worry about. I'm not going to rape you."

She ignored his comment, listening to him trudge behind her with _all_ the bags. Hell if she was going to carry a damn thing. She found herself grinning at his struggle. At a curse over something. He plopped everything down in front of the door and pulled out the card key, unlocking the door. The musty smell made him groan.

"God, this sucks," he muttered as he flipped on a light and pulled the bags inside, shutting the door behind him. He opened the windows for fresh air.

She couldn't help it, sassing, "What? You don't feel right at home? Scummy motel isn't scummy enough for you?"

He snorted at the comment, glancing at her shortly. Keeping whatever he thought to himself as he pulled his suitcase up onto a stand, as he unzipped it and stared at his clothes.

Téa sat on the bed closest to the bathroom, a hand on her belly as she kicked off her sandals. Todd caught that, head turned in her direction, having done a double-take. She moved her hand immediately, leaning back on her hands and studying their new digs. He shook his head and returned to his clothes, fussing with them, rearranging them.

Smoothing the ugly orange bedspread, she then hopped a little on the bed, testing the softness. The place reminded her of the China Moon, the place Todd stayed when this whole nightmare started. In all fairness, perhaps all musty motel rooms would remind her of the China Moon, of a night that had her staring down a sick addict and his street whore. Téa felt small and alone all of a sudden, remembering his last escapade in a dirty motel room. Thinking of Brandy. Wondering if she was afraid when she pulled out that gun. She had to know what would happen.

 _Suicide by cop._

"You hungry?" he asked, breaking into her reverie. "You didn't have much dinner back there."

Her voice seemed to have abandoned her and she shot Todd a disbelieving look, as if he was supposed to know what was on her mind, as if her thoughts were scripted lines in the air for him to read. How could he eat considering what happened? She shook her head when he furrowed his brows and said, "I'll get something for you if you want."

Clearing her throat first, she said, "I'm fine. I have crackers in my purse. I'm going to take a shower."

"Wait – let me clear out the spiders."

"Oh that's wonderful…yes, clear them out, by all means."

She heard him slap about in the bathroom. Hitting paper against the tiles. He popped his head out and smiled at her. He'd been kidding.

"All clear, Princess Téa."

"Shut up."

For the first time, Téa noticed Todd's boots…hiking boots. Regular, brown, laced up. She wondered if he had the steel-toed, black boots in his bag. _Those boots_. Too hopeful a sign that he'd have dumped them. He had to have them somewhere. Hidden in his closet at home maybe, or at the halfway house, or stashed in his office at the Sun.

He sniffed as he poked about his little grooming bag, as he pulled out a toothbrush and toothpaste. Like a normal person. As if they were on a simple trip to "get away from it all."

"So regular," Téa said softly, not really intending for him to hear, just…whispering to herself. She opened her suitcase that had been on her bed, unpacking the clothes and putting them in drawers. Unlike Todd, she didn't like living out of a bag.

When he gathered what he wanted into a neat pile next to his suitcase, he turned and plopped down on his ass, lying on the bed, taking her in as she walked back and forth between her bed and the dresser. Then, he sat up and took off his t-shirt, stretching as he did it. He untied his boots, pulling them off, socks off. He lay back and lifted his butt to shimmy out of his jeans, leaving him in black biker shorts. Scars, tattoos, and lean cut muscles screamed at her as he leaned back against the pillows again, legs spread, arms up, bent, hands behind his head. He closed his eyes. He filled out the shorts… very well.

All normality fizzled at that, water sizzling away in a hot pan.

She glanced down at her hands, twisting round and round her finger a ring she picked up in a pawn shop the other afternoon. Beautiful rubies in a row, atop a plain gold band. Left there by someone in dire straits, a grandmother's ring, a mother's, a sister's. Who knew its now-silenced history?

The bed called to her, sleep called to her. He'd driven the whole way over, almost in one shot. Miles of mountain road and highways. Classic hard rock music played along with the sound of passing cars through his open window. She recognized Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, AC/DC, and others. He sometimes sang the refrains, sort of off-key, sang as if he was alone in the car, banging the steering wheel to match drum beats. Using earbuds, Téa listened to a novel on her cell phone, shaking her head at him.

They'd pulled over for food at a café at the border. There were a couple of bathroom breaks, mostly at Téa's request. They didn't talk much. He focused on getting there, concentrated on the map. He could have used his GPS but he liked the old-fashioned way. Talked to himself about the best way to get to Fayetteville, the fastest.

Téa spoke to Viki at one point, Kevin, too. They were both surprised to hear of the trip. Before he left, Todd had asked them to do what they could to locate Jed but hadn't mentioned his own search. They worried for Jed, painfully so. Viki said she'd get her own private investigator on the job. Todd had grabbed the phone back when Téa had repeated Viki's plans.

 _Oh that's a good idea, yeah, hire the private detective—_

He told her point blank not to do anything if she learned precisely where Jed was, to give him the info instead.

 _He'll leave, Sis. Let me try to get to him first._

Viki had fumed over Todd leaving the halfway house, but let it all go…at least, she said she would. Téa wasn't so sure. She promised to call later. The next day.

The water of the shower woke Todd. He'd fallen asleep. He got off the bed, got to the floor, crawled like an about-to-pounce cat, and peeked past the slightly-open door. Liked what he saw through the misty, water-marked curtain. It was one of those clear kinds. Her gentle movements, the shape of her, her pauses beneath the water, all made him ache. He wanted to get in with her so badly he could taste the soap in his mouth, her wet skin against his tongue….

Like all his wants.

So badly he _wanted_ …he could taste it all.

Her towel lay on the floor and he reached in and pulled on it. Dragged it along the floor, inch by inch, a junior-high plan to get her to come out of the bathroom naked and dripping. Silly because he knew there was another towel in there but hey… why fuck not? Worth a shot.

Just as he got it close to him, almost out the door, he couldn't pull it anymore. He looked up and there she stood, naked, dripping wet, just like he wanted, her foot on the towel. The shower was still running.

"You are a piece of work," she said.

Transfixed, his eyes stung with a rush of hurt at seeing her so unadorned, looking down at him. She was so real and beautiful and _wet._ Water ran down her body, her hair fell in thick heavy locks, and he got close to her, bent further down, licking her ankle, her feet...like the feral mangy cat he was.

"No," she whispered, remembering when he was sick in the hospital, how he'd kissed her feet, crying, begging her for forgiveness, trapped in a net of grief, unable to forgive himself his wrongs.

He growled, "I'm dying, Téa, without you."

"Die then."

"I want to die inside you."

"You're insane."

He moved his mouth higher up on her leg, his tongue stiff and intentioned. He wrapped a cold hand around her leg, moving up…up…

"This was a ruse," she said, her voice barely audible. "There's probably another room free. Did you pay the manager to lie and say the place was full? Jed maybe is fine. Not disappeared at all. You lied to me, didn't you?"

Kissing skin above her knee, licking the water off her, he said softly, "Fate brought us here." He placed his hands now on both sides of her, looking up at her. Rubbed his stubble-covered chin against her thigh before kissing the delicate wetted hair at the crux of her body.

She swallowed hard, closed her eyes. Jesus, she murmured. The shower had awakened her, her skin, her breasts, her sex. Everything felt alive. His hands reached for her buttocks, squeezing the round cheeks with his hard hands, and he whispered a gentle, "Come on…"

She tingled in places she shouldn't. She was thoroughly weakened by physical desire, the heat of him wanting her, the knowledge of what he'd be like in bed, this way…she felt her want of what he had to offer between her legs, knowing she grew wet from his touch.

Rationality smashed through the haze and she squatted down in front of him, grabbing the sides of his face with her hands, getting him to look at her.

"What are you doing?"

He shook his head, his face soft and scruffy beneath her fingers, and whispered, "Nothing…I love you."

"I don't love you anymore – I've nothing left for you."

Shrugging, he murmured, "I don't believe you." Stupidly, drunkenly, like a kid, he tried to kiss her and she backed away, letting him go.

"Stop it," she said. She pulled the towel close, stood back up, and pushed him away with her foot. He let her do it, crab-crawling back out of the bathroom. The door closed. Closed hard in his face.

He laughed to himself, then didn't, and walked over to the bed. Lying down against the pillows again, he closed his eyes. Stuck his hand down the front of his shorts, he massaged an aching erection, hoping the release might kill the wants tormenting him. God, she wrecked him. He wondered as he thrust slowly into his fist, slickness coming already, that maybe she never should have given her body to him, that it would have been better to let her live in his fucked-imagination rather than in memory. He knew how'd she be, he knew the taste of her, the softness, the passion… _fuck…_ With an aggravated groan, he gave up, abandoning his chase.

He didn't want _sex_ with her, he wanted to _love_ her.

Like before. He wanted her to love him. He wanted to pretend that the past years hadn't happened…that they'd had a proper wedding, that he never found Georgie, that he still lived in a blessed fog of denial. He wanted … wanted … wanted…

He whimpered with hopelessness, pulling his hair back, and then punched the air, wishing to kill _something_.

When the door to the bathroom opened some twenty minutes later, he heard her footsteps, and the light switch. He got up and went into the bathroom, grabbing his personals on the way in. Showered. Groomed. When he came back out, darkness filled the room. The bed linens shifted as she got more comfortable. She sighed and moved about as he got into his bed. He turned over to face her. Said through the black night, "You still pregnant, Téa?"

She didn't answer.

"Tell me, Delgado. Tell me what you decided to do about our kid."

"What difference does it make to you?"

"I wanna know."

"Doesn't change anything. Baby or no baby. I still don't love you."

Cool air washed over his body and he breathed in the chill. Lay flat on his back again. "You're right, nothing changes. But I want to move forward on whatever decision you made. Wanna put the knowledge away, categorize it, file it in whatever box it's gonna go."

"I'm thinking of filing for divorce, Todd."

He didn't respond. What was there to say? He rolled onto his side once more, his back to her this time. The knife wound bleeding out. Felt blood beneath his body. Wished for heroin to dull the pain but thought of the consequences like he was supposed to. Drugs are why Téa's asking for a divorce. Drugs are probably why his kid disappeared. Drugs brought him to Brandy...and now she's dead. Drugs pushed him into the streets and into Phillip's mouth. Drugs took his already-instilled madness and blew it to kingdom _fucking_ come.

He tried to sleep until the noise in his head made it impossible, deafening him. With a frustrated huff an hour later, he sat up, shoved his body against the headboard and watched her sleep. She'd kill him if she knew he paid the manager right under her nose to say there weren't any more rooms.

 _Nice start, Manning. Nice, fresh start._

 _Fuck._

Stumbling out of the bed, he searched his bag until he found his cigarettes and lighter, and the room cardkey. Pulled on his jeans. He stepped outside, opening and closing the door as quietly as he could. He sat on the doorway step, lighting up, bare feet on the rough likely-to-give-splinters planks of the walkway. He was cold, could use a shirt, but the discomfort felt right. He was… _uncomfortable…_ way down inside of him.

The place was waking up, the sun coming up over the ridge. People were heading out to the river. Families laughed and piled into trucks, stuffing shopping bags and coolers full of lunches and snacks into overhead compartments and trunks. Moms, dads, kids, friends of kids, cousins, aunts, uncles. The homeless kids would still be out cold. Probably just got to sleep because that's the hours they keep.

Mothers glanced at him and reached protectively for their little ones, pushing them into the car. Dads shot him threatening looks. He found it sort of sad. He eyed one woman wearing too little for the chill morning, giving her a sharp, hungry gaze. She stared back, flipping her sandy-blond hair and sticking her breasts out, flirting with danger. Without thought, he ran his tongue over his lips before taking a long drag off his cigarette and the woman grinned. She had no idea just who she was looking at. Her husband didn't see anything – he was too busy getting the family into the SUV. Got to go to that river, to that glorious blue challenge, gotta fly down the rapids. Up and down and possibly under, but that's part of the fun, right? The risk is part of the fun.

Going under wasn't fun anymore for Téa. She'd had her fill of risk. The woman stuck her hand out the window as they drove off, waving her fingers in the air. Ta-ta for now, big boy.

 _I'm thinking of filing for divorce._

He pushed away all thoughts of Téa. Couldn't do this now. She might have thrown a sucker punch about that divorce but he wasn't down yet. There was nothing he could say to get her to change her mind–no words would hold water with her now. Not after all that's happened. _Shush._ He had a job to do this morning and he had to do it alone: checking out the morgue and the local hospital. This was an obligation. Just in case. Just…in case. He checked his watch. He could get it done before the princess woke up. That would be best. Jed may not trust him to save his life, but he'd trust Todd enough to recognize him on a morgue's steel table.

He'd get back to her on the whole divorce thing.

* * *

"He's the last unidentified male teenager that's washed up on our shores or was pulled off our streets in the past six months."

The coroner nodded to the assistant and for the third time, Todd held his breath and turned his head slightly to soften the possible blow. He bit down on his teeth. The sheet pulled back and it wasn't Jedediah.

"Not him," Todd said, sighing heavily in relief. Three was too much. He turned around and had to sit down. Bent and held his head in his hands. The assistant, a man near Todd's age, with a lot less mileage under his belt, sat down, too.

"Want some water?"

"No, I'm okay. What the hell do you people do out here, killing off these kids?"

Chuckling sadly, the laugh quickly disintegrating, he answered, "More like what we're not doing. The water draws a lot of kids out here because of the high tourist population. Lots of money being handed out. You got a picture of your son? I'll put it up."

"No, I don't want him to know we're looking for him. I want him comfortable. Thinking he's free…hidden. He'll show."

"Glad this morning was a failure," the assistant said as he stood.

"Yeah."

Todd stood and walked out the door, down the hall, into the morning's light. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to feel the relief of not finding Jed in the coroner's lab. He saw a bar across the street, the kind that opens early for breakfast in a glass, a neon martini glass winking at him. If there was a morning he needed a drink, this was it. Fuck the consequences.

The twelve steps told him not to, his mind on the other hand, his blood, said as long as it wasn't an illegal drug he was in the clear. He shuffled across the street and pulled the door open, walking into a cave of a bar. Put money down hard on the counter.

"Shot of Jim neat."

The bartender did just that, putting the shot glass down and filling it.

"Leave the bottle," Todd said. The guy moved off and began cleaning glasses like out of a movie. The place had wood paneling, the counter old and marked up with knives and fists and a whole lot of misery. There weren't many people here. He was one of maybe four. He could see his own reflection in the mirror behind the counter, not ever a pretty picture. He thought of his booking shots… was he that different? Would he ever be?

Todd held the shot in his hand and sniffed the amber liquid. He knew Sam was back at home fighting alcoholism. He knew Jed was dealing with a marijuana addiction, and he had his own personal slew of addictions. All the Granite gang flashed before his eyes. He longed for the security of Granite House. Even the halfway house back in Llanview sounded comforting. The men there understood him, at least the addict part of him. He understood _them_. The counselors knew their business, like Gilbert and Busy, and when he was near them, he believed in himself, he felt hopeful. The road to salvation didn't seem as long or as rocky or as endless. He wondered if he should talk to Tim right now. He glanced at his cell phone except something indefinable stopped him from dialing the number, a kind of exhaustion, or maybe plain old pride. He hated feeling weak.

 _God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference._

This was a bad thing, this…this bitter in a glass was a bad thing. A bottle next to it. He dropped his head and placed the glass down on the counter.

The faces of the dead kids floated upwards in his head, ashen, still, young faces. Maybe Jed hadn't been found yet. Maybe his body floated down the river to another state. Maybe it got eaten by wolves. Chewed up, bones left for the vultures and nature.

He grabbed the glass and downed it fast, and the burn felt so good…brilliant. Sighing, he sat down on the seat. The bartender said nothing as he tipped the bottle and filled the glass once more. A true enabler.

"Rough morning?" he asked.

Todd didn't say anything, just looked into the eyes of the questioner. The bartender nodded, not needing an answer, and filled a second shot glass. Todd drunk them both and said, "Keep the change," as he left, squinting at the sunlight when he hit the street. The hospital was next.

* * *

When Téa awakened, she wasn't surprised to find Todd gone. Unlike at Destiny though, he didn't leave a note, breakfast…or weapons. Granted, at Destiny, Téa hadn't wanted a divorce. In Destiny, they'd spent the night locked in battle and then in sex.

In love.

 _Pure. Free. Sober._

So many promises made only to be blown to smithereens. _Kapow_. For a minute or so, she worried about where he was, if he was shooting up somewhere, if he found a replacement for Brandy. But she pushed it away. That was codependency. She could not fix him. She could not stop him. She was powerless to his addictions. She just needed to worry about herself. The clock read half past two in the afternoon. She knew she'd been sleeping the morning away because she had been feeling the warmth of the room, seeing the day crossing the dark carpet, shadows shifting. She had heard cars come and go, had heard the knocks of housekeepers at other rooms. Nobody knocked on her door so Todd must have put the "Do Not Disturb" sign out.

After a quick wake-up shower and getting dressed, she stood in the room, eyeing Todd's belongings. They appeared so benign, _normal_. She didn't trust him, though. Didn't believe in his commitment to sobriety, to making a better life for himself. After some seconds of back and forth legal argumentation, considering if her wishes were against the rules of Al-Anon, giving up on the internal dispute in the end, she began to unpack the suitcase.

Clothes, a pair of sneakers, his grooming bag, a packs of cigarettes, and a book of poems by Kahlil Gibran, entitled, _The Prophet_. She smiled and caressed the book, opening it carefully so other papers stuck in there wouldn't fall out. He'd underlined lines throughout the book, starred some passages. One caught her eye from "the Coming of the Ship":

 _It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands._

She touched the words, wondering what those words meant to him, hoping they meant what they sounded like: that he was casting off his addiction. There were papers in the book and she looked at each one. Notes from a meeting with Briggs, notes for an article on teen homelessness, statistics on the same, pledges he'd written for the halfway house, the twelve steps from Narcotics Anonymous. He was trying. She couldn't deny it.

Téa shook her head, cynically. Sure he looked beautiful, and he had left beautiful things behind for her to see. But she'd been fooled before. Not again.

She dug deeper into the suitcase, digging in among the tee-shirts, the jeans, his favorite biker shorts. She smelled the European cologne he liked. She tore at the bag for secret spaces, all along its sides, convinced there was something that would implicate him. She bumped into something in a side pocket. feeling a hardness. When she searched the spot, she reached in though the opening at the top, and pulled out a black, onyx angel.

 _Brandy's_.

She sighed and sat back on the bed, holding the figurine in her hands, "You're never going to shed heroin or her, are you?" The sun shone on the girl, scratches visible. Immediately she wondered how he'd gotten it and figured he'd stolen into her room at Viki's maybe, imagined he'd done it without permission. Sure of it because Viki wouldn't dream of encouraging his attachment to Brandy's memory.

"You're pretty, Manning," she murmured, imagining a box wrapped in fancy paper, tied with a silky red ribbon. She saw the ribbon unloosening, being held by unforgiving hands. She felt the ribbon around her throat, the ends being pulled, tightened until blackness would overtake her.

 _I love you._

"I'm not going to let you do that to me."

She took the angel, putting it into her purse. Repacked the suitcase. She'd use this on him. She'd yank it out when he proclaimed his vow of clean living as a means to lasso her into his world again.

Armed, she then went out for food, foraging for nutrition because her stomach was mighty empty and that was a bad thing.

The streets of Fayetteville were busy and the cafés packed. As she walked, she eyed the faces of the people she passed, glanced down alleyways and darkened hallways for Jed, for kids his age. She saw a few, asked them questions. Gave them money, showed Jed's picture. Nobody knew him – they did mention a shelter, St. Matthews, part of a church of the same name. Just down the road. That-a-way. Finally, she came upon a cutesy place and sat on a street side table, ordering right away: turkey sandwich on wheat with the works, potato chips, a side of coleslaw, and fruit to boot. She decided to go all out – got a chocolate milkshake.

When she was done, leaving about half of everything, she sat back, pleased, full, happy in the moment. She knew Jedediah was around. She couldn't explain why she knew, how she knew, she just believed it. She had faith. It made lunch better and she instinctively rubbed her lower belly. Mid-rub though, she remembered the angel, reality pressing in on her, and she mentally reviewed the steps for divorce. It would be easy, really. Just a little bit of paperwork, a filing fee. A six-month waiting period if she did it within Pennsylvania. She could fly to the Bahamas and do it in one day. Fast-food-divorce.

The time was near four and she checked her cell for messages, wondering now where Todd had gone. She couldn't help it, she was worried again. Yes, worried he was chasing something other than Jed. Tried not to be but there it was again. It always returned. The worry. Breathing to let it go, she imagined his stubble-covered cheeks against her skin, too easily, felt him kiss her pubis, felt him lick her, take her into his mouth. For a few manic seconds, she wished she'd grabbed him by the hair last night, made him eat her, wished she'd gotten him to sit on the bed so she could straddle him, getting him inside of her. That was a position they'd never done.

 _Jesus,_ she murmured.

As if he knew she was thinking of him, the cell rang and his voice came through and what surprised Téa was the relief, the nonsensical desire to go to him, to curl up with him, to get back under the bed covers.

The angel, she told herself, remember the black onyx the angel.

 _Jesus._

"You all right?" she asked.

" _Yeah…um...where are you?"_

Reaching to see the name of the restaurant, Téa said, "The Blue Bear Café, home of the original New River Apple Pie."

" _Is the apple pie any good?"_

"I don't know but the chocolate shake was pretty good."

He didn't say anything for a moment or two. Then, _"Hm."_

"'Hm'…what?"

" _Just…nothing."_

"Ok?"

" _I love you."_

"Like I said, I don't love you."

" _I know what you said."_

"Anyway, what's the deal? What are we doing?"

" _I don't know. I'm distracted now."_

"By what? Jed? You heard from him?"

" _No…those jeans of yours…that lacy thing on top. I'm starving."_

"Jesus."

She looked up and around and there he was, yards up the street, looking like he'd eaten a canary. She ended the call and shook her head. He strode right over, ordered something from the waitress, and sat down across with her, setting the phone on the table.

"I hate your nefarious ways, you know," she said.

He took her hand and kissed it and she let him, the act strangely sweet and odd. He looked at her and she pulled her hand back into herself as if he had taken more than a casual taste of sugar. She tried to read him, but he hid himself well. He seemed too…happy.

"You found Jed?"

"No," he said, grinning, "I didn't."

Téa flashed him a look of confusion, and he said, "Three dead, waterlogged, sun-beaten kids…none of them Jed. Three runaway kids with broken bones and one in a coma…none of them Jed." His features changed, and the grin dissipated and he closed his eyes for a minute too long. He flagged the waitress and ordered a beer.

"Should you do that?"

"Gotta chase away the pictures…"

Téa didn't say anything further, watching the people, watching him drink the beer and wolf down a roast beef sandwich. He couldn't hide the sadness any more.

"Dead kids, Téa. So…fucking…dead."

"You shouldn't have done that alone."

"No…but that was the last thing you needed to see. Not in your condition."

"My condi—I am not pregnant."

Todd raised an eyebrow and Téa crossed her arms. He waved his hand and the waitress came to the table. "The little lady would like a beer. A really big beer."

"Tap or bottled, ma'am?"

"In a bottle," Todd said, mimicking the holding of a beer in his hand, "…a big bottle."

"Ignore him, no beer please," Téa chimed in, re-crossing her arms as the waitress walked away, irritated.

"Oh yeah, that's a tell. Crossed arms, turning down a beer. You're a liar, Delgado."

"Am not! I terminated the pregnancy last week!"

People in the restaurant hushed and looked at them, eyes wide and judging, then the noise resumed. Téa slid a little in her seat.

"Nice one, Delgado. I'm talking dead kids, really dead kids, and you have the nerve to mock me with your fake abortion."

Téa's eyes watered and she shook her head, "God damn it."

"Ahh…the last tell. Tears over the baby. You're so carrying my kid." He spoke loudly then, a sharp edge in his voice, "Cigars for everyone! We're _pregnant_!"

The patrons across the café clapped uncomfortably, and Todd quit smiling, picking up the beer and drinking the last of it. Téa shakily lifted a sweating glass of water to her lips.

He was right of course.

She thought she could kill the relationship with Todd by ending the pregnancy, but there, in the sterile room, faced with the last question of the doctor, the task proved an impossible one. She reached across the table and grabbed onto his wrist, studying his shadowed eyes.

"Please, Todd, please stop."

"What the fuck ever."

 _Are you ready, Ms. Delgado?_

 _Yes…I'm ready, ready to have the baby. I'm not terminating. God help me and this little one…but…we're in for the long haul._

 _Congratulations, then. The nurse will help you up. And…good luck to you._

 _Thank you, we'll need it._

Before Téa could say anything further, Todd shook her off and took a piece of paper out of his pocket, reading aloud, "Two places: Abandoned factory off Glen Allen Drive and St. Matthew's Shelter on Fayetteville Boulevard. We can either check out St. Matthews which is about a mile west from here, or the factory which is a couple miles to the edge of the water. Where do you want to go first?" He looked at her with a strong, firm gaze, positive of his next move.

Téa answered in a strong voice, her own next move uncertain. "Jed doesn't like institutions, liberal or otherwise. Maybe we should go to that factory first. On the other hand, St. Matthews might give us information – maybe they can tell us more about where these kids go."

Todd fingered the paper, thinking about what to do. He looked down the street, lost in something.

Téa spoke up to break the silence, "Any other suggestions? Options?"

"Nothing else – I think you're right about the factory. Let's go there."

"So those leads, are those the ones that Paulie gave you?"

"Yeah," he said, folding the paper and putting it into his back pocket.

"Did he hurt you? When you saw him?"

"What makes you think I saw him?"

She didn't say anything – her gaze, sure of her contention. Of course he'd see Paulie in person. Todd wouldn't miss an opportunity to taste his old life, or get another shot at suicide for his sins. The black angel told her that.

Todd shook his head, capitulating to her unspoken insight, "Tried to – he decided I wasn't worth the bullet."

"Are you?"

"I don't know, Téa. When we find Jed, you let me know if I'm worth one or not. You ready?"

"Are _you_?"

A warm breeze rustled napkins, flapped the edges of the awning, and carried the sound of kids laughing as they passed the restaurant. Looking towards the lighthearted noise, he said, "Yeah, I'm ready."

 **To be continued…**


	28. Chapter 28

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 28**

Hunger starts in your head. At first it's just an idea, an amorphous concept. You shrug it off though 'cause there's no money in your pocket. Or 'cause the money is spoken for already. Or maybe there just isn't any time to grab something. You continue doin' whatcha doin'.

But soon the idea grows, taking shape, getting hard edges. A visual colorizes and gets layered. Smells lurk in the crevices of the picture. Memories loom. A hamburger and fries from the local diner, pancakes and eggs that your best friend's mom made that one time. A fat, juicy steak served with Heinz 57 on the side sitting next to a butter-slopped baked potato and eaten at your dad's penthouse apartment that looks out over the city. The saliva gets going, and when that happens, patience dies and the idea takes over everything.

The once-embryonic thought flies out your mouth, real and full, "I'm hungry." The concept spins in the air, shoots back inside of you, down your body, coming to a smashing stop in the pit of your stomach. Hunger hurts then, when there isn't any money, when the pantry's empty, when there doesn't seem to be any place to go.

God, hunger can hurt.

Jed wiped his eyes and licked the salt off his palms. He squinted at the sun shining down on him and turned to his bag to hunt for his canteen so he could drink the last of the water. Nelson squatted down to Jed who was sitting against a streetlight, and grinned, "You did good, Getting that old hag to talk to you with those puppy-dog eyes. But what never fails to be pure genius, is your acting job after."

"How much you get?" Jed wasn't in the mood to shoot the shit. He needed the bottom line. He needed to fucking eat.

"Twenty-five. Ain't much."

"How much total?"

"Brings the take to about 50 bucks."

"Think we can use some of that for…supper?"

Nelson paused and gazed across the road. "I don't exactly have it…"

Jed groaned aloud, "Oh come on, man! I been waiting here like forever and am fucking dying of starvation…I mean literally dying, man!"

"Hey! I bought what we needed…you know…the shit you love so much."

"I want some food, Nel. We haven't had anything for like three days. Nothing meaningful, dude. Come on."

"Okay, okay…look I'm sorry…we owed money…and…fuck…get up…let's try one more time, okay? Just for us, okay?"

Nelson held out a hand and Jed looked up, his chopped, dyed-black hair sticking up in all directions, his cranberry t-shirt stained with sweat, his faded black jeans mudded from sitting and sleeping on the dank, dirty floors of the abandoned factory at the far edge of Fayetteville. While his face had the look of an older teenager, skin still smooth, the barest trace of a beard along his jaw line, his hazel-colored eyes reflected many more years on this earth, eyes haunted by unspoken memories and dread. Jed took his friend's hand and let himself get tugged to his feet.

The two walked back into the crowd of milling tourists, looking for their mark. Supper money.

As he walked, Jed thought about what to eat. Where to go. He knew some spots where the waitresses would fill up the dishes with extra food. Then he thought about smoking those killer blunts that had been spiced up with…shit. _Heroin_. He watched his ragged canvas shoes take one step after another. Shuffling sometimes. He wasn't sure what had gotten him here, but he sure as hell wasn't going back to his mom's compound or Llanview. He made a deal that if he found food in the next hour. He promised he wouldn't smoke one of those ciggies ever again because he wasn't _that guy_ …he wasn't his father.

No fucking way.

Nelson elbowed Jed, but said nothing. He spotted someone. Nelson whispered a couple lines and disappeared into the crowd.

Jed saw their next job and his stomach grumbled loudly. Fact of the matter was that they were getting pretty damn desperate. While the tourist population had shot up, the wallets had closed. Their panhandling had produced little, their other activities had produced little more. The girls, they had started to offer themselves. It was bad. The boys… they weren't there yet. Some of them would get there quicker than others. He would never do that shit.

He was hopeful. A few minutes of acting and he'd have a full stomach. Getting out of the afternoon heat would be nice, too. A cool, iced Coke, a burger, and fries covered in ketchup. Simple dreams, ya know? He swallowed saliva pooling in his mouth.

Hoped the lady wouldn't get hurt.

He had followed her for a block or so. She was older, over 60 for sure. Someone's grandma. He tried not to think about that too deeply. She had whitish hair colored yellow. Her ample figure had been squeezed into new jeans and a Fayetteville tourist's tank top. Jed got into the mood, worked to look sweet and vulnerable and fucking hungry. Only today he didn't have to work so hard. He slapped on a crooked, pleading smile and reached out for her arm, on which hung an overfilled leather purse. With a long strap. Just the way he liked them.

"'Scuse me?" He said in his nicest, sweetest voice.

The woman stopped her stroll and looked at him, questioning at first. "Yes?" Her face softened.

"I'm on vacation with my parents but kinda lost the money they gave me and you know, I'm real hungry. Think you can spare a buck or two?"

The woman looked at him up and down and tilted her head, "You don't have to lie to me, honey."

"I don't?" Inside he sort of chuckled at how predictable they were. Man, could he spot the easy ones.

"No, let me give you somethin' for food. You want me to buy— "

Nelson never gave these marks much time to actually dig into their purses. What he looked for was the loosening of their arms, a show of relaxed muscles, proof that they were letting go of the bag. Ideally, THAT was when he'd hit them.

Before she could finish her sentence, Nelson came bounding out of nowhere and grabbed the purse. The bag slid away like a greased-up wedding ring off a finger. Her mouth fell open and Jed's too. Now his acting came in, "HEY! Give that bag back!" And he turned to her, "I'll get it, I promise!" He dashed down the street, pumping his arms and kicking up his knees until he was out of breath, until he was sure Nelson had faded into the back streets, and then he turned back, shaking his head, panting like a racehorse to show how eager he'd been to catch the bad guy.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so…so sorry! Damn it!" He looked in the distance like he lost the only food he was ever going to see. A part of him wondered if maybe that was true. Street kids don't always trust each other. His eyes almost watered. In fact, he made his misery so big, so real, the lady felt sorrier for him than herself.

"It's okay, honey. These things happen. Don't you worry…" Then she shouted, "Punk!"

She looked for the cops at that point, just as some people finally began to notice and pay attention. That's when Jed upped his puppy-dog eyes, "I gotta go. The cops…they'll send me back and I can't go back, I can't…please…"

The lady nodded, shooing him away, his 'reality' coming to light. He had to be an abused child. Oh most certainly. "Go…go," she agreed, her voice full of empathetic pain, "…it's okay…take care of yourself, honey. Run."

He walked quickly, head down, hood up over his head. Another one down. That much closer to dinner. When he hit the corner he turned left, turned left again, turned right. Headed a few blocks down the alley and smack into Nelson's pudgy self. How the guy ran as fast as he did, Jed would never know. He figured Nelson's chubby appearance was the reason he was never identified. Nobody believed he was the "Grab Bag Bandit". People always remembered someone slim and small. They probably confused Jed and Nelson.

Nelson looked apologetic at first then got pissed off. "Not so good."

"What?!"

Nelson waved the three tens in front of Jed, "This isn't enough for shit. Thirty bucks." Angrily, he tossed the bag into the junkyard behind him. The bag had been full of old lady things. A book, makeup, hairspray, a crumpled hat. He handed the money to Jed.

"Take it."

Jed cursed a string of words as he shoved the bills into his pocket. "Now what?"

"Wait until dark. Somethin' will turn up." He turned and started walking. "Let's go eat at Joe's, get somethin' good. I'm fuckin' dying, too."

At that, they began their trek to the other side of town, away from their usual jobs. Jed couldn't wait to eat. But somehow, as he walked along the dusty back road, he knew that he'd still be hungry no matter how much he ate. 'Cause he really was a kind of bottomless pit. Totally empty.

Yeah, they were getting kind of desperate.

* * *

The street thickened with tourists in the late afternoon, out-of-towners shopping, picking up supplies, ogling one another. Téa watched Todd stare at each face that passed him by much in the same way she'd done earlier, searching for his son. Dark circles had crept up beneath his eyes, he slouched, and he'd shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

Téa put her hand on her belly, a recent instinct. She wore her clothes loose, choosing her "fat" jeans, not showing enough for the ample fabric of maternity-wear. She wondered when she'd feel the baby inside of her. Was it at three months? Four? She was fast approaching three. Names swam in her head, imaginings about what the movements would feel like. She wasn't focusing on Jed. She grabbed Todd's wrist, slowing him down. He turned to her, features rigid. She pulled him into the shade of a boutique, pretty things in the window. The black angel in her purse weighed down the purse hanging off her shoulder.

"Your walk has turned into a jog," she huffed. "I'm not my normal self, remember?"

He gave in to her pull, eyes narrowing in her direction. "Sorry," he said. He leaned back against the wall, his own tiredness seeming to catch up to him all at once. He eyed her from head to toe, something primal lurking in the blatant appraisal, and he offered what had the potential to be a smile. He swiped his lips with his tongue before speaking.

"I'm not mad at you."

"Oh so good of you. What could you _possibly_ be mad at me for?"

"You know, not talking to me. Hiding… the baby."

She scoffed, glancing into the distance.

Shaking his head, looking at the ground, he continued, "I meant what I said, that you could do what you wanted. It's your body. Your kid. I'm not exactly…Mr. Perfect. Or…Mr. Almost Perfect. Or…well, you know…"

"I know." She folded her arms looking in the opposite direction, neither wanting to catch each other's gaze. "I _am_ keeping the baby, Todd. Please know that."

"Right. Good. Whatever you need, want…whatever. You got it."

She said nothing, sighing a little. "Including that divorce?"

Her words lit him up, like a match to kerosene. He shot a sharp, angry look at her, then turned away again, saying so matter-of-factly, Téa nearly slapped him, "You're not gonna file."

"Screw you, Manning."

He leaned toward her and hissed, "You _love_ me." His eyes were cold. She searched his face for the damaged child she knew lived inside him. She found nothing. Despite the deadness, she was suddenly sorry she'd mentioned the d-word. She really hadn't wanted to irritate the wound she'd torn open the night before. But she had angels on her mind…black, heavy, triggering _angels_.

"You know what? For the sake of Jed, let's just focus on him, okay? No way we're gonna find him if you've been murdered…by me."

He grunted, "You're right on that, my sweet peach." He had a way of talking that made nice words sound cruel.

"One day at a time," Téa chimed.

"Right. Let's find the little shit and get him home." History crept up on him, and the harshness ebbed. "Let's get him before the cops do."

She flashed a complacent smile at him, seeing a bit of what was underneath the gruff exterior at last. She didn't love him…how could she? What sort of sickness possessed her to still love him? To want to grab him up into her arms and hold him forever so he'd never fall again? What sickness indeed. Tilting her head, trying to make peace, she agreed, "Absolutely. Right now we share a mission: to get Jed someplace safe. That's what matters…right now."

He nodded, grabbing her hand which surprised Téa. They walked slowly through the crowd with fingers interlocked. He wouldn't let go. Téa sighed at his steadfastness. It was he who loved her. She really didn't doubt his twisted view of the world, of their relationship. She fought a compulsion to squeeze him to her. To soothe his hurts. To slap the shit out of him.

She didn't love him. She _refused_ to love him.

They visited the teen shelter after all. The volunteers and workers there were kind, helpful. They truly sought to make a difference for these kids, running workshops to help them pass the high school equivalency exams, get jobs, learn study techniques, find foster homes or other living arrangements.

The social worker offered to make a photocopy of Jed's picture and put it up on the bulletin board. He scanned the pictures of the kids. The sight saddened Todd, making the absence of Jed very real. Very permanent. His picture belonged on the board. "No," he said, repeating his reasoning, "I don't want him to know yet… that we're looking… other than asking around."

He thought of the dead kids. Wondered whether he'd have to check the morgue every few days. Wondered if Jed had maybe taken off to New York or L.A. Hopelessness had leaked into his veins.

"You know about the factory?" he asked.

The young woman said yes, she was familiar. It was a great place to check but that it was hit and miss. The kids moved around the towns along the river. Followed the tourists.

"Tourists give the kids money, keep them afloat, so to speak," the social worker explained. "They use the kids, too. Tourists know how desperate some are. What we see…"

She didn't go into details, leaving the horrors to the imaginations of her audience. She was talking about prostitution. Todd swallowed hard and looked at the teens in the shelter, memories stomping up and down along his spine, knocking on his head. Trying so hard to get inside and behind his eyes for him to see. Fear broke out in a fine sheen on the back of his neck. He could not go back to Toby's. Didn't want to. Jed was different from him.

Totally… different.

That was when he thanked the woman and dragged Téa away. They didn't talk for a long while afterwards. He thought of that kid in the alley back on Sixteenth.

 _What do you want? A fuck or a suck? I do it all._

Heading west again, they watched faces and hoped for a miracle as they walked the streets.

Todd squeezed Téa's hand when he saw a gang of teens lounging about a boulder on the sidewalk, panhandling.

Téa slowed and said softly, "He's not there."

"No, he isn't," Todd said quietly, disappointed.

Pulling away, pulling out of his airless clasp, Téa reached into her purse for some bills. She smiled and handed the money to one of the seated girls, "Is that enough?"

The girl looked at the fives and twenties and rather gawked, "You kidding?"

"You probably got some other mouths to feed, right?"

The girl's golden hair shone in the fading sunlight, the tips sporting the remains of orange dye. Her nose and eyebrows were pierced, her clothes a mesh of fishnet stockings, corduroy, denim, and tall boots. The other kids looked similar, a mess of clothing and body art. One slept in what looked like an uncomfortable position, knees up, arms around the knees, head knocked back against a wooden post with his mouth hanging open. Todd stood to the side, his attention bouncing from Téa to the girl to the other kids.

"Well, yeah," the girl admitted, "there are a few of us. Ain't you scared I'm going to buy drugs with all this cash?"

"Are you?"

"Maybe."

"I leave that to you. I would like some information though."

The girl shrugged.

"You know someone named Jed? Here's a picture." Téa showed a picture and the girl shrugged again. Shook her head, but didn't look Téa in the eyes.

Someone else came up to Téa and glanced at the picture, "Never seen him before, lady." His clothes hung loosely on his round-ish frame. He looked well-fed despite the ragged state of clothing. His shoes had holes on the top. Dirty athletic socks poked through. He smelled like cigarettes.

Téa raised her brows, "Really, you sure? Think about it."

The heavy-set guy had an aura of authority. He shook his head. The other kids came up and took a peek, too, before returning to their work. But before they said they didn't know Jed, the kids looked at the Big Kid first, as if for a clue on what to say. They looked at the picture and then looked at the Big Kid.

Téa gritted her teeth. They definitely knew something.

"Look, I'll make it worth you while. Just give me a bit of info."

The group murmured a reverberating, "No. Sorry. Don't know him." The phrases bounced around like a beach ball.

"Well, thanks for looking, for talking. Let me give you my card. My cell phone is on the back. You see this kid, you call me, okay? It's really important. You could say a matter of life…or death."

The girl took the card, "You got more cash if I do?"

"Maybe."

"'k." The card disappeared into a cloth bag.

As Todd and Téa stepped away, he noted, "Those kids were holding back. Maybe we ought to…hang out nearby. Watch 'em."

"I know."

They loitered a bit then started walking. Téa asked, "You want to skip the factory for now? Keep an eye on these kids instead?"

"Thinkin' about it. Call it instinct."

Téa couldn't help the sassy response that flew out of her mouth. "And we'll listen 'cuz that instinct of yours has been soooo accurate."

"Now who's angry?"

"I'm not. Just taking one day at a time."

Todd actually chuckled before turning to look at the kids again. When he did he caught one of the boys staring hard at him before glancing elsewhere. He turned back once more, curious, but the kid had disappeared. He shrugged it off, chalking the stare-down to simple admission of guilt. They knew Jed and were off to warn him. Maybe that was a good thing. Yes, it definitely was. Jed was alive and well, no doubt. And more importantly, he was here.

On the other hand, just how far off the grid had this kid fallen? Nightmarish whispers rustled about suddenly – that gang looked downright low. Without a thought, he reached down, adjusting himself. The nightmares washed up along the shores of his mind. Toby's place…that apartment…a mouth on him.

 _What you want, baby?_

He stopped in his tracks and had to catch his breath.

Téa hesitated, "What is it?"

He didn't say anything, just shook his head. Started walking again. The truck loomed ahead, a couple of blocks off the main drag. The sun was making a quick descent into the west, dusk rolling in. Darkness…rolling in.

* * *

Some minutes later, Jed strolled up to the gang on the corner, mostly satisfied with the food from the diner. Nelson pulled him to the side, wrapping his arm around Jed's shoulder, "Shit man, you got some serious law chasing after you. Maybe the Feds, maybe private dicks, who the fuck knows? The hell is up with that?" The other kids had swarmed up to Jed and Nelson.

Jed's heart jumped into his throat, figuring it had to be the cops from Llanview or worse, the Feds, just like Nelson thought. The ones who wanted him to rat on Todd killing Phillip Manning. He still remembered the pictures they showed him, the ones in which he didn't have any clothes on. He swallowed a bit of puke rushing up in his throat.

"Just old business, man. Shit." He ran a hand through his hair and looked down the street.

"Look, there's a silver lining to this – whoever they were, they had money. Lots."

"How do you know?"

"They gave us $80, baby. Enough for a real party. Promised us more, too. And the guy, he had this ass-kickin' watch on. They definitely are carrying cash."

Jed groaned – oh yeah, that sounded like the guy who interrogated him. He remembered a Rolex. He was pissed that Jed had splashed him with vomit.

Nelson spoke like a snake, "I got a scout following them. We're gonna jump 'em. Want in?"

Cold ran through Jed's veins, dark thoughts coming into the light. "Maybe we need to do more than just take their shit," he said softly. "They play dirty."

Nelson patted his friend's back, "We got you covered." Nelson picked five guys from the crew. "We're on it. Let's get protected."

The sun was sinking and Jed shivered. The Feds were fucking onto him. Freedom had just ended.

 _Fuck._

* * *

Along with the sky, Todd's mood had darkened once again. Téa pressed her purse against her body, pressed the angel to her. How the hell were they going to get through this day? They were supposed to keep watch for those kids. Except both held in so much pain, so much fury. She had to know about the angel – she had to get a better grip on where he was. Yes, she had to confront him right now, low mood or not because if they weren't a team, they'd never get to Jed. They'd never get THROUGH to Jed.

When they got into the truck, Téa blurted, "Why do you have Brandy's black angel?"

He sat back, definitely surprised, looking at her a few moments. The keys slipped and fell onto the floor. He stared straight ahead. Téa pulled the thing out of her purse, standing it on top of the dashboard. Blackness glinted.

"Is it guilt? Or a keepsake, a reminder of her? Is this love, Todd?"

Dropping his eyes, he offered nothing but silence.

"Did Viki give this to you? Or did you take it, steal it? Am I looking at your private, goddamned, insistent connection to heroin?"

Anger sloshed out, she knew. He took it though, staring out the window, head against the head-rest. Téa let him steep in the quiet. She knew she'd get an answer. She braced herself.

"I'm sorry you found that."

"Explain. Please." Her voice betrayed her fear.

"You may not understand."

"Try me." She felt sick. Brandy seemed to be as alive as ever. Small and poisonous, perched above them, heroin needle in hand, body ready for all the abuse he could give her, poised for all the pain he wanted to give. Téa wrapped her arms around herself, images of the past year too ready at hand.

A ragged whisper came from him, pulling her out of her recreated horror-story, "I took the angel from her room at Viki's house. Viki doesn't know, so yeah, I stole it. See, I left the halfway house once, broke into the house to sleep in Brandy's bed. To watch these… twirling... colored lights she had. Stupid lights. I'd been at the halfway house for a week and hit some new wall or something and suddenly I was…alone. Really, truly alone."

"You missed her."

Téa's chest physically ached, her heart shredded again at so many haunting memories, the sight of Brandy injecting him, the sound of his desire for that woman in his life, the whispers into the telephone when he learned of Brandy's miscarriage. She thought of his broken body in the hospital, near-dead from an overdose, and how he'd walked out of the hospital after, back into Brandy's arms and heroin's grip.

He said nothing for the longest while, staring into the far distance. Swallowing hard, he spoke in the softest voice.

"I held that angel that night, under the purple, orange, and yellow lights, and asked God for help." He chuckled to himself, "Me…talking to God, like a crazy man." He turned his head to Téa. "He answered me." He paused, chewing on his lip. His eyes locked onto hers. "There in that room, it wasn't Brandy who I saw…it was you. I could see you so clearly. I heard your laughter, that throwing-your-head-back laugh. I heard you, I felt you…I missed YOU, Téa. I missed you so badly, I wanted to die."

Téa tore away from him, forcing herself to watch the dwindling crowd across the road. This was too hard. She wanted to run out of the truck. This was harder than what she'd imagined. Brandy she'd expected, not this.

This…made her weak.

"I knew I wouldn't die, though. My sobriety makes me feel raw, exposed, ugly, mortal. My craziness is out in the open…what happened to me, what I did, every disgusting act…all laid out there like a fuckin' picnic on a hillside, under the blue, sunny sky. And I knew that through all that pain, I would not die."

She felt his fingertips on her cheek, caressing strands of her hair.

"If I shot up that night to escape it all, nobody was going to come for me. Nobody was going to save me. All I had was me and the higher power. And if I ever wanted to see you again, I had to wake my ass up, and get back to the halfway house. I had to save myself. For you…for Starr…for that little baby inside of you. For Jed. For me."

He returned his gaze to the outside world. He straightened up and took his shirt off. "That angel I took, I took as a reminder of how bad things can be, of how good things should be. I took it as a blueprint. I left it in the bag, forgot to take it out."

He turned slightly, showing his back to Téa. She gasped. And then became overwhelmed by what she saw, reaching for the image on his skin. She hadn't noticed it at the hotel. It had been dark and she was so angry...

The black angel herself had been inked next to the Grim Reaper. It wasn't alone anymore. With flowing hair and wings, the angel shone black as night, draped languidly against her soul mate. Dazzling and powerful, she completed the dark picture Todd wore. Only she didn't look like an anonymous woman, nor did she look like Brandy…no, she looked like Téa. She traced the features, the lines.

Settling back into the seat, he looked at her. Tempered rage ran white hot in his voice and darkness deep in his eyes. "I will always love you, Téa, no matter where you go, how far you run. How far _I run._ You will always be with me."

Tears burned and she covered her face with her hand. What future could they have? She could not live with the uncertainty he offered. She could not do that. She…could not…do that. Not to herself, not to her child.

And yet…his soul had long been burned into her. Chains held her to him tighter than any shackle, tighter than any ink under skin.

"Todd…"

He pulled her to him, his breath hot against her neck. She collapsed against him, weak as a dainty flower. He whispered thickly, words she'd said to him one night long ago, "I just wanted you to know."

Wetness fell and he kissed it away, his tongue lapping at the moisture. Their lips missed. He kissed her cheeks, chin, and squeezed-shut eyes. Kissed the bridge of her nose, her throat. Téa fought him, turning, emitting small whimpers, as if saying no, and yet…she could not push him away.

Finally, daringly, he planted a hot, frantic kiss on her mouth. He pushed his tongue into her and she took him. Her hand came up and grabbed his hair in a confusing, mixed tug, neither fighting him off nor bringing him closer. He leaned into her, crushing her hard against the seat. She ran her hand down the strained, tight muscles of his back, their mouths melting into each other, mashing hard. They separated at last, foreheads touching, breaths fast.

"What do you want me to do, huh, Todd?"

"Nothing…nothing…you decide. You do what you think is right for you. Just know that I'm here." He looked at her, misty-eyed. "I am HERE. Now."

She touched his face, "You have no idea how much I want you to stay. I don't want to be afraid anymore."

His voice caught and he trembled fiercely. "I don't want you to be afraid."

"But it isn't possible…the addiction…it's a disease and…"

"And it's never going to go away, but…" He took the angel and brought it to her, his teeth gritting with determination, "but I have this. I have the memory of everything that happened. I understand more about myself and what made me who I am today than ever before. And because of THIS, I know my strength and power of commitment. I know what I'm capable of…I know…I KNOW who I can be and should be. I am here. Alive. Breathing. And fucking thankful for it."

Téa smiled through her tears. Cupped his face in her hands. "One day at a time, right?"

"That's right. One fucking day at a time."

"I should shut up about tomorrow then."

His lips stretched into a thin line, brows knitted. He shook his head, "I don't wanna say that."

"But that's what it is. You don't think about that in recovery. It's too big a promise. It's too daunting a task. You might fall again. It's just a fact like having another heart attack or going into insulin shock… life is unpredictable. Addiction is a chronic disease that can only be managed. Recovery is forever."

"I don't want to fall again."

"But you might. And we both have to be realistic. You're doing your best and you're committed. You mean what you're saying. That's probably as good as it gets."

She shrugged. Sighed. Eyes shiny with their life as it would be. And well… she loved him. She did. It was as powerful a force inside of her as his addiction. And in the same way he could lose himself to drugs, she could lose herself to him. That would be her constant work, to not lose herself. Tears fell again.

And she fell. For him. For them. An impossible tie to cut.

She kissed his lips, staying on him. Her breathy voice repeating, "Okay, okay…you are here today. So am I. We're going to live, and love, one day at a time."

The truck's cab was hot, the air heavy. Todd pulled Téa onto his lap, her legs folded on either side of him. His arms held her to him, her body soft and willing to be held. He merely looked at her, and she at him.

"One day at a time," he said.

"Yes."

"I love you, Delgado. Forever."

"I know. I love _you_. Forever."

He smiled, "Well… _fuck_."

She laughed, her hand on her lips, stopping it. But then they both laughed, tears on their cheeks.

 _One day at a time._

They kissed softly at first, then with more energy. Their lips and tongues fought and embraced and caressed. Todd's hands explored her body, her face and locks of hair. They acted as if they'd never seen each other in this light even though they had. They acted as if they were kids, making out in a dark corner of the world where nobody could see them.

Even though they weren't completely hidden.

The sun set at last on the quaint town of Fayetteville, West Virginia. With the sun, went Todd's and Téa's last of their inhibitions. And their instincts.

* * *

Nelson smirked, blocking the view from Jed. "Ohhhh man, he said, "this is gettin' good. The Feds are totally gonna fuck." He giggled like a girl. The group all laughed and made jokes, all under their breaths lest they get heard.

Jed laughed, too, going along with the program. Everyone kept him in the back because they didn't want him recognized. He was a tag-along. He didn't mind staying down. He didn't want to see that bastard Federal agent ever again as far as he was concerned. So yeah, he was gonna stay way out of the way. They promised him the watch. A keepsake of a victorious battle. Jed knew the dope in their systems was clouding their judgment. Somewhere inside of him, he knew this could be disastrous. Between the heroin-laced ciggies and the bit of crack buoying their bravery, they were positively stupid.

"Oh shit, there goes her top…" Nelson smacked Jed on the back, "You're gonna get some long-deserved vengeance my friend."

* * *

They didn't talk further. They said nothing as they acknowledged that they were forever tied to each other. They shared a child, they would share a life with all the ups and downs fate had planned for them.

They were committed. They were…

"I love you, I love you," Todd huffed as he kissed her and unbuttoned his jeans and slid her panties to the side and pushed deep into her.

She gasped at the hot feel of him inside her. Her eyes were fast on his, "Oh god," she moaned softly. "I love you," she breathed. "More than myself, Todd… more…"

They held each other tightly, not moving, just feeling each other's presence. Feeling the heat and wetness. The stillness couldn't last though. They were too needy. He moved her ever so slightly up and down on his cock, and he growled with the effort of restraint. She got more on her knees and pressed down and rocked her hips until she was on the edge of an orgasm.

She kept still once more and looked into his eyes to see what was there, to see who was there. When their eyes met, she saw the darkness as always. But she saw something sweet, too, in his hazel eyes, something desirous and whole and promising.

"What do you want, Todd?"

"I want to come home, Téa, with you. I want everything."

He shook with intense need, with a mad desire to pump into her until she screamed. He took her wrists and held them behind her, pressing her to him. She fell into him, her head on his shoulder, his mouth against her neck. He opened his mouth and gently bit her skin. He hooked into her at that, sucking relentlessly. And as he did, he roughly jerked her against him. She did scream, ever so softly. He wouldn't let go of her skin as he bucked and Téa dug her nails into his hands behind her back, groaning, " _Dios…dios …_ "

More Spanish words came from her and he released her hands. She brought them up, gripping him now, holding him to her as he pumped into her. She felt his hand on the back of her neck, his other around her. His mouth met hers and she quieted under his forceful kisses. She felt like a doll on him, like she was light as a feather, like he was using her. But she felt his heart racing, his voice ragged. She heard him say her name, say that she was his.

She bore down on him, opening her legs wider, and an orgasm pounded through her at last. She cried aloud, her head tipping back, her hands squeezing his hard shoulders, fingers digging in.

He watched her come like that and the sight of her and the noises she made put him over the edge. All restraint left him. He moved quickly, pumping furiously, until he growled and cursed, a violent ejaculation overtaking his body. The shudders of release seemed to go on forever and all the while he held her so tightly she thought she would be crushed. She then understood that he was crying silently into her. She too felt the same emotional letdown. She smiled when he loosened his grip on her and sat back, holding his face in her hands, kissing away the salty tears.

"Such a tough guy," she said.

"I love you," he said again, said it like a tattoo on her heart. A stinging, permanent truth.

"I love you, Manning."

"You're doomed," he said, caressing the damage he'd done to her neck.

"That I am."

They held each other for time, finally separating. Fixed their clothes. She slipped her jeans on, cursing the inventor of denim. She got back on his lap and he cradled her like precious goods. Breakable. There was little to say. They held hands and looked at each other.

He smiled and Téa chuckled, "My god…your smile is absolutely archeological. Such a rare sight."

"Very funny."

The sun had gone down long ago and they contemplated taking the rest of the night off. Sleeping. Making love some more. Todd had started teasing her, kissing her again, licking her to tickle her, to get her to laugh. Getting her to play-bite him back, his throat, his shoulder, a nipple…

They laughed and played for the first time ever and both wished the time wouldn't end. He wanted more of her. He was hard and she laughed at it, starting to touch him, to encourage him.

That's when something came crashing through the window on the passenger side. Glass exploded inside of the truck, a shower of shattered glass bits raining all over, and Todd grabbed Téa to him to protect her.

In seconds, though, someone reached in, unlocked the door, and pulled it open. The shadow had a bat or something and the dark shape bashed him on the side of his head, getting him to loosen his embrace. Before he could recover, Téa was dragged away, dragged off of him, her screams cutting.

As he scrambled to throw himself out of the cab, he met yet another unforgiving swing of the bat. He was knocked back into the truck and the only thing he could hear was Téa's shrill and terrified scream, followed by a sickening thud and her dead silence.

Dazed and blinded by the hit, he forced himself to turn, to crawl towards the door. Someone was in the back seat of the truck, searching the floor and side pockets. He felt hands in his own pockets at that and a whoop of elation. Someone stuck him hard in the belly with the bat, and he gasped for air. His watch was wrenched off his wrist, skin bloodied by the action. The bat then hit him again, but this time, he grabbed the bat as it left his body, shocking the owner. He jerked it backwards into the face of his assailant who yelped like a kid.

When Todd whipped around to see through the dark, to _see_ his assailants, he quickly realized he could _not_ see. The hits had blinded him.

He stumbled in his own darkness, swinging the metallic bat madly, crazed with his inability to hear or see Téa. Fear hadn't hit him yet. No, he was nothing but pure rage.

"Get the FUCK away from us! GET THE FUCK AWAY!"

Across the field, Jed heard the ragged shout and realized with horror that these weren't the Feds.

"TÉA! ANSWER ME!"

Shadows moved around Todd and he tried to distinguish them, but he couldn't. Black in the black. He'd been hit damned hard. Téa wasn't making any noise and the fear finally kicked into overdrive.

"Delgado!"

Nothing, nothing…he shook his head, the blindness stubborn as hell. He stood still trying to listen, trying to hear something other than his speeding pulse and his hoarse breathing.

"Where is she, YOU FUCKERS! YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!"

Jed jumped to his feet, tripping on weeds and dry brush, falling hard to the ground, eating dirt. He got to his feet again. These kids had no idea the time bomb they had just triggered. He called out to Nelson, his voice hoarse and useless, the words stuck in his throat like a nightmare. His feet wouldn't move fast enough. He tripped and fell again. Oh Jesus, he thought, Todd's rage in combination with his fear…they had no idea. He tripped yet again, tears coming to his eyes.

His friends…Jesus…

Todd heard someone laugh hard, in a restrained way. He realized they knew he couldn't see and they were finding it funny. Which made him crazier. He turned his head, trying to listen. But it was just his heart and his breathing and his own footsteps. He stopped at that. He would listen, he would hear. He fought with the blindness, damning it.

 _Listen!_

And he did.

"Marco," someone said.

They were quiet a moment. Then "Polo!"

Their game was going to be their downfall. When the next heavy footstep came toward him, the shadow sang out a crass, "Marco!"

And Todd swung the bat with everything he had. He felt the delicious thud of the bat connecting with flesh.

A male's voice choked with the shock of the hit and Todd laughed wildly, "Oh yeah…come on, come on…come to me, you little fucks…"

"Get up, Rudy!"

The kid was moving, had to be getting back up, and Todd heard him, turning towards the movement. The shadow flung himself once more at Todd so he swung the bat in response. The bat met its target solidly, the shadow shrinking down once more.

He heard a strangled voice say harshly to the other, "Shit, Nelson, get the fuck outta here! Come ON!" The voice was familiar but Todd couldn't place it. It was like out of a dream. He was dreaming he hoped. Just a nightmare. Voices jarred him back to reality.

"Hell no! We're not leaving 'till we get him for taking down Rudy! For what they did to you!"

"You're gonna get hurt, man…come on!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Nelson yelled.

"Yeah, shut up," Todd yelled. "Come on, _Nelson!_ Come on! _"_

Nelson laughed as Todd leaned on the truck, stepping in the dirt, moving around it to the front to get to Téa's side where she's been dragged out.

Her weak voice hit Todd, clearly down on the ground. Her moaning told him she was at least three or four feet away. A safe distance. What was wrong with her? Jesus…Jesus…

He backed up, trying to get to where Tea was. He hit something soft. She moaned gently and his heart jumped into his throat. The baby…

"Marco," he heard. Close to him. They said, "Polo."

He swung hard to the left and this time felt the crack of a skull at the tip of the bat. Another instinctive laugh got forced out of him. Curses from the shadows.

"Shit! He got him!"

"I can't see and you're still falling like fuckin' flies. Come to me, bitches, so I can fuckin' kill ALL a'you."

"We just want the money, man!"

"Nelson, come ON!"

"Get the fuck outta my face!" Nelson yelled. He was not going to give. "You and you," he ordered, "…get him! What are you standing there for?! Get the bat outta his hands!"

Todd felt a kind of psychotic euphoria at hearing the nervousness in the voices now. There was a scuffle to his right. Licking his lips, he knew he was ahead of the game. He walked a little to the left again and ran into an unconscious body. He kicked it away from him, pushing it farther from Téa. The guy didn't move. He chuckled again and knew he was crazy … crazy with the thought that Téa was behind him and wasn't moving.

He growled now, his body shaking hard, "You all have a death wish? You want to fucking live to see tomorrow? GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"

He listened more and feet were moving and he swung around again. Shadows were all he could see but they'd gotten more defined and he could now approximate where each assailant was. He breathed with relief. Close was better than nothing. There were three milling around him and one standing in the distance. Two on the ground were out cold.

Okay, he thought, okay. He grinned and nodded, "Still wanna play, huh? Fine…bring the shit on…you're gonna lose. You're gonna all lose!"

Téa mewled like a cat and Todd said, "It's okay, baby, nobody's gonna hurt you."

He held the bat tightly and when one of the shadows moved a little, he lowered it down and pounded the thing into the center of the blob, the guy bending over, spontaneously vomiting. Todd swung the bat upwards, smashing the guy's face and causing him to crumple to the ground, gasping for air as he fell.

At that the other two attacked Todd at once. He'd seen the darkness coming, though, so he dropped his head down and pushed forward like a linebacker to get them away from Téa.

They all collapsed to the ground and Todd scrambled to get his bearings, having lost the bat. They trapped him though, hands and knees pressing him to the cold ground. They had cornered him. Started beating on him as he curled up to protect himself.

The cornering tripped something further inside of Todd, though, and he knew he had to fight hard. 'Cause Peter was going to kill him. Peter was going to take everything he ever was away from him. He had everything to lose now.

So with all he had, he shoved his knee upwards, hard and fast, catching one in the nuts. The attacker curled up like a pill bug, groaning loudly. Todd then head-butted him into silence.

The second one had grabbed Todd's hair in the meantime, trying to yank him away from his downed friend, punching wildly at his body, at his neck. Todd turned up and grabbed this last guy by the throat, got to his feet, and dragged him to the truck, smashing him against the side window. Once, twice, three times.

"You'll never get to me again, you bastard! You will never GET ME!"

He didn't stop until he heard a deep voice calling his name, calling him out of the fog. The voice stopped and he felt someone's arms pulling him away from the guy in his hand. The attacker slid soundlessly to the ground and Todd swung around, still unable to see fully. He swung his fist at whoever was there, missing. He was scared, his eyes big and searching – he could only see the shadows.

"I'm gonna kill you! I will kill you!"

The shadow knew Todd wouldn't miss the next time and backed away, hitting the ground running. Leaving his five friends behind.

"Téa! Where are you?!"

"Here, here…"

He stumbled in the dirt, listening for her, trying to re-orient himself. She called weakly for him, "Over here…"

Almost tripping over her, he dropped down to her and grabbed her up into his arms, "Téa …Tea …please…"

"They hit me hard, down, down…" She started to weep.

"Jesus," he groaned, holding her and rocking her, "Oh god, I'm so sorry!"

"Todd…listen to me…"

"Shhh…we gotta get out of here…I swear I think I killed a bunch of the bastards."

"We have to call the police."

"NO! They'll take me back. They'll do that. Shit, once they see the wreckage…"

"Todd…"

"I can't fucking see anything…we gotta get outta here…dead…dead…dead people…"

"Todd…please…"

"What? What is it?"

"Jed was here – I saw him, I heard him. He's in such trouble!" Téa started to cry again, bringing her knees up to protect the little one, and Todd held her to him, the blindness fading fast. The voice that sounded familiar. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right. And the more he understood of the truth, the more room there was for red-tinged hatred.

Jed was in this group that could have killed them both.

Todd looked down towards Téa in his arms, her features beginning to register, and only one line of thought went through his busted head. If those homeless bastards didn't kill Jed, if the police didn't kill Jed, if some pedophiliac rapist didn't kill Jed, then he would.

He was going to strangle Jedediah Chant with his bare…fucking…hands.

 **To be continued...**


	29. Chapter 29

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 29**

He demanded for her to talk, to tell him she was whole, _sane_. She curled into his tight embrace, knees up to protect the little one. She said over and over that she was okay, that she was fine. He patted her body, checking for blood or broken bones, listening for pain. Caressing her clammy cheek, he hissed through clamped teeth, "Stupid, stupid..."

Keeping an eye out for more attacks, Todd searched the blackness for a bat coming at them, or worse. He shook his head, trying to clear the dark images in his head, to quell the choking anger he felt towards his own son. Thoughts like that put people away. Forever. He touched the side of his head, where it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, pain equaled by rising nausea. God damn it, he probably had a concussion. When he looked at his hand, he saw blood. The moonlight made the blood black. He rubbed his hand on his jeans, pressed his cheek against Téa's warmish head.

She made her voice calm and serious because when it came down to it, she'd always be his lawyer first. She said, "You have to check those kids, check them to make sure they're okay." She felt his body stiffen. Her fingers dug into his cold flesh when he didn't respond. "Do you hear me, Manning?!"

The voice that returned her ire was cool, low, and emotionless. "You're all that matters. I'm driving you to the hospital. Let's get the hell outta here."

He moved to get up but she turned away and pushed herself off him. "Check them! NOW!" Her hand pressed on her belly, she hunched over, glaring at him. "So help me god, I will say this was your fault if you don't do what I tell you."

As if he'd been asked to pick up dog shit with his teeth, he stood to his full height. "It's not like we have a lot of time, _Delgado._ "

"If something's happened to those kids, THEY don't have a lot of time." Her gaze was determined, insistent. Classic Téa priority. Isn't that what he loved about her?

Staring down at her, he growled, "I can't promise to treat them well if they're still breathing."

"Todd…please…"

Téa sat with her back against the truck's tire, breathing evenly, searching the brush, the open space beyond. Stars shone down on them, a beautiful sight. The chilly breeze ushered a thrill of fear that ran along her face, her hair. The night was quiet. In the distance though she could hear cars on a highway, shivering trees and shrubs. The rushing current of the New River kept time with her heartbeat. She dragged her feet closer to her bottom, keeping her knees up and her hands against her belly. Fact was, she knew she wasn't hurt beyond being terrified. Yes, yes, things felt okay, normal. They'd only hit her in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out. They hadn't touched the baby. Despite the obvious relief, she was afraid, still. She understood why Todd didn't want to call the cops.

They'd lynch him. He'd already made quite the splash in Fayetteville with Brandy's death. With the Federal agent's death. If something serious happened to those kids…

Returning to her, he grumbled, "Get in the truck first, then I'll check."

Téa agreed, climbing inside and getting into the back seat where there wasn't as much glass from the broken window. Her cell was on the floor. She picked it up and slipped it under her thigh. She'd do the calling if she had to, if Todd couldn't maintain himself. She reached for him and held his hand, "I'm okay. The baby is fine. They didn't hurt me."

"They wanted to. _He_ wanted to."

 _He._ Meaning Jed.

Pulling out of her grasp, he slammed shut the door. He walked around to the other side of the truck, to the back end. Just as he was about to reach for the tire jack that lay waiting for him, that he could use against evil fucks that were still alive, a shock of pain hammered his head and he grabbed the side of the truck to keep from falling. When the intense thumping subsided, he bent over and vomited. Wiping spittle from his mouth as he worked to catch his breath, he watched the stars, twinkling and oblivious to the hell below. Sounds and light whirled around him and for a moment he wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. For a second, he was whisked back into the depths of crazy, where the last he remembered he was walking and walking, unable to find the way out, the way up, the way into the real and true and goodness of heaven and earth. He remembered the Spirit telling him he'd finally forgiven himself.

Had he?

Things settled and he reached inside the bed, loosening free the jack. Held the thing firmly in his fist. Walked to the driver's side of the truck where his last attacker lay in a heap. He nudged the kid's body with his foot, making the kid groan.

"This one's still alive, goddamnit."

He turned and saw another kid, a black-haired raven one sitting up, nursing his head and knees, staring at Todd. Mute. Scowling.

"We got a really alive one over here." Todd pointed at him with the tire jack, saying softly, "You move one inch and I will kill you. Hear me?"

Todd turned again and kicked at the brush surrounding the truck, looking all over for the others. Standing once again in front of the Raven, he demanded, "Where are they? I got five of you and now there are just two. Where are the other three?"

"Fuck you."

In one swoop, Todd stomped over to the kid, lifted him to his feet, and demanded, "Talk now or I'm gonna show you hurt like nothing you ever known before."

The raven only laughed, "What, you think a threat's gonna scare me? A little pain?" The kid gazed at Todd, the emptiness evident. A recognizable soullessness. "I been through way worse than you." He chuckled again, a forced whimper following when Todd shook him to make a point.

The boy hit the ground, falling on a bum knee. Todd eyed him, taking him in, reassessing his strategy. The kid sat up again, rubbing his wounds. He spit at Todd, the slime landing on Todd's shoes.

Squatting down, the jack dug into the dirt providing support, Todd spoke, his voice smooth as syrup. "See your friend over there? He's in deep shit. Bad concussion. If he doesn't get help, his brain's gonna swell. He'll go into a coma. Then he'll die or end up a vegetable. Damn shame, don't ya think?"

The kid swept the scene behind Todd, stopping at Nelson. Returning his gaze to Todd, he took in the tight muscles, the ink up and down his arms, and true deadness in his eyes. Blood alongside his jaw didn't help. The bad scar on the other side confirmed the picture.

This guy would hurt him. He saw something else, too. The coloring, the shape of his face. The long nose. Familiarity. The boy narrowed his eyes. Yeah, yeah…he couldn't believe he didn't notice it before. The guy looked like Jed. A lot like him. No way was this guy a Fed. Suddenly, Jed tearing out of the dark trying to chase everyone away made sense. This guy meant something to Jed. So why didn't he tell any of them the truth?

Todd's voice pulled Raven's attention. "You can help your friend, you know. My wife, who you nearly killed, will call an ambulance despite what you all have done. The cops will come. Paramedics. Light up the fuckin' night with Red Cross salvation. Your friend can get the help he needs. All you have to do is tell me where your other buddies went."

The boy swallowed hard, keeping his eyes on an unmoving Nelson. He wiped his face. The others had taken off when this guy went nuts on Nel. Took off like bats outta hell, not looking back either. Bastards. The story played out like a movie. Todd grinned. Catching on. The kid looked away.

"Some friends, eh? Really got your back. Really got your friend's back. Really deserve all this… _loyalty_."

"What are you gonna do to them?"

Todd licked his lips, sniffed. "Nothin'. Just talk."

"You were looking for Jed, earlier. You and your woman. Before you fucked in the truck." The corner of the boy's mouth twitched. The bare beginnings of a smirk. He whispered, "You really gave it to her good."

Todd kept his face expressionless, but inside, the invasion of privacy stung. Reminded him of his stupidity. His failure to keep Téa safe. His hand curled into a fist. He stopped himself from whacking the kid hard across the mouth. Anger shifted in the base of his brain, firing outwards, intensifying the pain. Jed once again lay at the receiving end of nasty, hate-filled images. He had to keep the crazy at bay. He had to. He breathed in through his nose, raised his eyes. Crazy…crazy. The son of his father. A child-turned-rapist. Where sex was just another branch of violence. He smiled like a Cheshire-cat, knowing teenage male sensitivity.

"You liked watching, huh? What got you hotter…the chick getting fucked…or the _guy_ doing the _fucking_?"

The kid shoved Todd hard to the ground, but couldn't do much more than that, thrown into a state of instant hurt.

The aggressive act though tripped the crazy again, madness flourishing, blowing up in beautiful Technicolor. Todd scrambled over, grabbed the kid by the shirt front and slammed him onto his back, on the ground. He straddled the kid, his hands around the kid's throat. He cursed as he adjusted his hands, no future in sight, no plans, just relief.

"You fuckin' shit," he spat.

A hard stick got shoved into his ribs and made him buckle up to the side, tears fiery hot and the taste of dirt in his mouth. The fall split his head, pain blowing up. When he looked up through the haze, his Téa stood there, holding the tire jack, protecting the kid.

He rasped with hurt, "The hell is the matter with you?!"

"With ME?! What the hell is the matter with YOU?! He's a CHILD!"

Todd curled up tightly, pressing his cheek flush against the cool ground, growling out, "Children of the fucking corn." New pain worked to settle him and rationality flowed into his head. He huffed, "Just wanted him to tell me where Jed is, that's all, okay? Jesus Christ…Delgado…why you have to hurt me, huh?"

He rubbed his head against the ground, seeking respite. The hot shock began to wear off and he rolled over onto his back, staring upwards and panting like an overheated Doberman.

Sensing an odd island of safety, the boy crawled away some, sitting up, rubbing his throat and breathing hard. He asked cautiously, "What do you all want with Jed?"

Téa turned to him and contemplated what to say. After a second or two she felt maybe a twisted version of the truth would work. "He's my stepson and, believe it or not, we're trying to protect him from the police. If they get to him before we do…" She sighed and then looked at the boy earnestly, putting on her sincerest, most compassionate of personas. "Please," she said, "we're not here to hurt him. Do you know where he is?"

Raven held his head in his hands, keeping his eyes on Todd who had finally gotten to his feet. He stooped slightly, his arms wrapped around himself.

The boy asked, "You gonna report all this to the cops?"

Téa glanced over at Nelson who was clearly the leader of the group. He was stirring and Téa was worried that once the kid roused, he'd shut the black-haired boy down hard.

"No," Todd said.

"You gonna hurt my friends?"

Todd licked his lips and rubbed his head, eyeing Téa. She flashed him a warning expression. He shook his head finally.

"I won't hurt your friends."

"You'll call Nelson an ambulance?"

"Yes," Téa assured him.

The boy, suddenly more a boy than he'd been all night, whispered, "Abandoned factory, down the road about two miles. The second one along the river, not the first. Drake's Tool and Dye."

At that, Téa dialed 9-1-1.

* * *

Todd drove slowly, moving along dark roads alongside the river, Téa at his side, sirens sounding out in the distance. The headache worsened and blood leaked down his neck. He was really queasy, too. He chuckled to himself, disbelieving their "good" luck.

"Let's go to the motel," Téa urged, "get cleaned up. Todd…maybe you need the hospital."

"If I never see another doctor in my life…" He paused. "Unless you think you need to see a doctor. The baby…"

"I'm good. The baby's fine. They didn't hurt me. Nothing more than knocking the wind out of me."

The motel wasn't far and even though this would be the time to corral Jed, the thought of sheets, a hot shower, a ton of aspirin, and sleep sounded a bit too good. At least for an hour or so. He pulled onto the main drag and within moments came to a hard stop in a parking stall at the motel. Todd got out and came around to Téa's side. He opened the door and held his hand out, whispering, "I'm sorry. So…damned sorry."

She smiled sadly, "We're a mess. Can't save Jed looking like this."

The room smelled like the river, musty, green, a hint of mildew. Open windows added to the humidity. When Téa turned on the light to get a look at Todd, she winced at the blood, grew cold at how pale he was.

"You don't look good," she said.

She pushed him to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, wetting it. He sat on the counter, looking downwards. Let her clean up the hurt. An impossible task, really. His hurts ran deep. He grabbed her into his arms, the towel falling to the ground. He said softly into her ear, "Have you really come back to me?"

She pulled back slightly, "We were ambushed tonight, we could have been really hurt. Jed is out there. God only knows what he's going through. And this is what you're thinking about?"

He nodded. Added, "Tell me."

"I can't even think beyond the next two minutes." He made puppy-dog eyes at her and she relented, "Yes, I'm here. Right now. Do you see me?"

"Téa, the crazy's coming back. I feel it." He wasn't looking at her, but rather at his shoes. At imagined black granite beneath, like before, like from way before. He lifted an arm and studied the scar that ran along the length of his forearm. He wished he hadn't survived the cutting. Fuck, he was crashing hard. Dangerous times. Téa picked up the towel. Finished cleaning the blood.

"Does it hurt? The 'crazy'?"

He shook his head. He took her face into his cool hands, "Are you okay, Delgado? Really? For sure? Thoughts went through me…I thought maybe…maybe they killed you."

"I'm fine. I promise you. I would know. I would. We had a very close call. Those kids... but things are okay. You kept them away from me. You saved us."

"You didn't seem very thankful when you stuck me."

"Well…someone had to think rationally."

Kissing her forehead first, he walked away from her, heading to the corner of the room. When he got next to the bed, in between the bed and the wall, deep in the shadows of the room, he turned and collapsed to the floor, head down, arms around his knees. Somewhat protective of his head. He used to do this in the old days and it always felt good. Safe. Nobody could get to him here with his back to the corner.

Téa sat on the bed next to him. Asked gently, hesitantly, "You want me to call Tim?"

"No. I'm just gonna close my eyes. Just…just a little while. I gotta headache." After a moment, he lifted his head once again. "When I get to him, I'm gonna kill him."

He put his head back down and Téa swallowed hard. A part of her believed him. She didn't like what she was seeing. It did occur to her that he had a concussion and he shouldn't sleep. She vowed to wake his in twenty.

The dark feels good, the plaster-covered cool feels safe, he said to himself. The crazy can come now. With that thought, the woodsy scent of the spirit flowed all around him while Satan's laughter filled his head. The sounds of past horrors boomed behind a closed door. Darkness once again pulled him under, and with that, he twisted the doorknob of the pulsing wood, walked into the white light of madness.

* * *

Téa curled up on the bed, her hand loosely on Todd's arm. She watched him sleep, watched him twitch and jerk as he made his way through a hell she couldn't see. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over his body. He made little noise, though. Silently battled those old demons of his.

When he settled, after about thirty minutes, knowing he shouldn't sleep, letting him do it anyway, she pulled out her cell and phoned Viki. Woke her up. Apologized and filled her in on what happened. Asked her to make some calls, get an update on the kids from the ambush. If possible. She didn't want to risk calling herself. Though shocked by the events of the night, after giving a solid lecture on the dangers of chasing gypsy kids outside the law, Viki didn't waste any time in getting back to Téa.

"A couple of kids were brought into the Fayetteville emergency room," she said, "they're relatively unscathed though. They refuse to give any information to the police. So at this point, nothing's happening."

"You're a lifesaver."

"How are _you_ , Téa? You should get checked out by a doctor. Don't take risks with that precious baby of yours."

Téa laughed quietly, "No worries, Viki. This child is as much a survivor as the parents. Both of them."

"I suppose you're right. But please…no risks okay?"

"No risks."

Téa had woken him up every thirty minutes after the phone call with Viki. Midnight had now hit and Téa got up. Todd had slipped all the way to floor on his side, curled tight as a lima bean. Tight against the wall. When Téa shook him a little, he didn't respond. She got a bit nervous and she shook him again. He opened his eyes, muttered he was ok, and went back to sleep. She showered and dressed. Set her alarm for one hour. For him.

She was going to Jed. Before the 'crazy' woke up and got to him before she could stop him.

* * *

The truck rolled quietly along the blackened roads and Téa's heart beat louder than the engine roared. She came to Drake's Tool and Dye and not surprisingly, flickering lights lit up the rear of the building. Amazing that this place hadn't been long ago raided. She remembered though Bo Buchanan once telling her that throw-away kids were sometimes unofficially left as fodder for the rapists and killers. Anything to keep the bad guys away from kids who actually had a chance in this world.

She rolled the truck to a stop. She tilted the rear view mirror to take a look at herself.

"Nice look, Delgado." Her eyes were puffy with lack of sleep, her cheeks slightly hallowed from lack of food. The brown irises though were bright with determination. She was going to get to Jed first. She was going to drag him to safety even if it killed her. She petted the baby, "No, I don't mean that literally."

She closed the truck's door, the click seeming loud and intrusive. Stopping for a minute to be sure nobody heard her, stillness reverberated around her. Assured, she began her walk through the weeds growing unkempt alongside the abandoned factory. A horror movie would have had music playing, warning the viewers of the monsters inside the building. She knew this was nuts, "crazy." But Jed needed her, needed a safe person to catch him. Todd wasn't it.

Windows no longer filled the spaces that protected the inside from the elements. Through the empty holes, the sight lit up by a shining moon, Téa froze with the sound of a man and a woman. Their noise was primal, raw. She turned and peered through the window-frame, seeing a couple having sex on the floor. They were going at it, heatedly, unloving. They were young. The man, his brown hair twisted into swinging dreadlocks, stopped and flipped over the female, jamming himself into her, continuing in an unforgiving rhythm. The woman, lying helplessly on her belly, saw Téa and held her gaze a moment. Téa couldn't tell if the girl was asking for help. The girl, looking horrifyingly like Brandy, dropped her head down and grabbed a pole rising up out of the cement, saying nothing, lifting her ass for better access. Téa turned away and kept her move through the weeds towards the lights.

She came to more glassless window spaces and the inside was lit up by candles and gas lamps. The kids were lying around, some familiar faces. They were smoking and eating. They were involved in a tense conversation. Téa ducked down where she could see and hear, hidden. Her eyes followed the line of ten or so kids until she stopped at Jed. Her heart ached at the sight of him, changed for the worse. He was thinner than she remembered, his hair dyed black, longish. His face looked drawn and angry. She wanted nothing more than to sweep in there and take him away.

* * *

Joaquin growled, " _You're_ pissed at us? You got some nerve, asshole, since this was basically your idea!"

"Up until I saw the guy was a lunatic!"

Joaquin, Brent, and Kelly were still in serious pain from getting their asses handed to them with their own instrument of terror, Nelson's favorite metallic baseball bat. Kelly piped up, directing his words at Jed, "Who the hell was he anyway? He wasn't any Fed, that was for fuckin' sure."

"Yeah," Smith said, "you see those tats on him? No Fed wears that kind of shit."

Kelly added, "And did I mention he was a freak, all crazy and shit?"

Jed didn't say anything, shrugging. Goddamn it, he was sick over the whole thing. Especially Téa. She didn't deserve that. Smith had laid a good punch on her, knocking her down and out. They searched for her "gun." Of course, they hadn't found anything. All they got when they were done with her was Satan's crazy on a platter. God…damn it. Nelson had to be dead. Nobody survives that kind of head-slamming.

Joaquin got up and stood toe-to-toe with Jed, looking down at him. "Who the fuck is he, Chant?"

"Hell if I know." Jed yanked the blanket harder over his shoulders, tying and retying his shoes. Old-style, tall Converse canvas shoes he'd picked up from a thrift shop.

"Bullshit. I couldn't help but notice a strange, un-fuckin'-canny resemblance between you and the Freak. Not to mention that you came out of fuckin' nowhere warning Nelson to quit before the guy even laid a hand on us. How'd you know he was gonna tear us new assholes, huh?"

Swallowing hard, Jed shook his head and stood up, nose to nose with his _compadre_. "I heard him shouting like a madman – he was obviously crazy. Crazy people KILL. You don't gotta be related to a nutcase to recognize one. You just have to be smart enough to get the hell outta there. Which you weren't!"

"Fuck you, asshole!"

"No…bitch…fuck YOU!" The two started throwing punches before Lucy and Kelly got in between them.

"Stop! Stop!"

Panting hard, the two boys separated at last, staring each other down. Lucy had a hand on the chests of both boys, trying to bring in some sense. "Listen! We can't do this. We don't even know if Nelson and Grits are okay. We've totally wasted the past two hours on this crap. You said they got it pretty bad from that guy, whoever he is. We need to figure out how to help them and you fighting isn't gonna get that done!"

Brent and Jed looked at each other, Brent then adding, "I told you, Freak bashed the hell out of Nelson. Nelson fell…a lot of fucking blood, man. He wasn't moving. That's when Jed and I split. I don't know that we can help him. Or Grits either."

"Exactly," Lucy said, "I mean…did the cops come?"

They all shrugged.

"Maybe we need to call…"

Joaquin lit up, "You as crazy as the Freak. What are we gonna do, Luc…walk up to a cop and ask about our friend who got the shit beat out of him when we mugged a Freak? Or…or…maybe roll into emergency, all beat up and shit, and ask THERE about our friend who got the shit beat out of him when we mugged a FREAK!"

Kelly giggled, "That's so funny."

Everyone turned on him, "Shut up!"

"Well it is. Funny. All unrealistic."

Jed plopped back down on his haunches and lit up a blunt. There just wasn't anything to do right now. He needed to be high. The special stuff was in this one. His eyes welled with tears, thinking about Téa. He had so betrayed her. The worst part was…she saw him. Stared at him straight up. She knew what he'd done. Which meant…that the Freak…that Satan…he knew it, too.

The rest of the kids scattered, Lucy shoving everyone out.

God…damn…it. He thought maybe he should get out of town. But first…he needed to get high some more because he really wanted to forget what happened tonight. He really needed to forget the sound of Todd's strained, beyond-angry voice, the sight of him bashing Nelson. He remembered all too well when Todd did a similar thing to him, when he pushed Jed hard against the wall after he had flushed his stash of dope. He remembered too the very first time he met Todd, up close and personal in the hospital. He also knew what he did to Philip. He didn't like that guy, Satan in the flesh. Not…one…bit. He breathed in deeply the tainted smoke. He fell back and let himself go.

"You sure ain't no Superman, Pops."

Lucy heard that and looked at a still-stewing Joaquin across the room, leaning against ancient, dead machinery. Maybe he was right. She got in close to Jed, who shuddered from the delicious high he'd welcomed into his system.

"Jed, baby, who was the Freak?"

Jed opened his eyes to Lucy. She made him miss Summer intensely. He reached out to her and patted her darkened hair. Like Summer, she was the one who blackened his hair. She was the one who tattooed him, tattooed the word, "Gypsy" across his back. 'Cuz that's what he was. He had no home anymore. He fit in…nowhere. The room had quieted. Lucy kissed Jed's full lips.

"Tell me," she said, "Who…was…the Freak?"

"A stranger, a drug-addicted rapist who's nobody to me. He'd like to be, he thinks he's my father. But he's not. He's nobody. Not to me."

Lucy eyed Joaquin across the way who cursed and threw something across the room, the echo of the thing banging against the ceiling stories up. They all knew that if this guy was related to Jed, he wasn't going to stop coming after Jed. That would put all of them at serious risk of jail or juvenile hall. The end of everything.

Jed had to go. And sometimes that meant the cold depths of the river.

* * *

Téa swallowed hard when a hand grabbed a handful of hair.

"Get up, bitch."

She stood slowly and found herself facing the one who had demanded Jed to tell them who the "Freak" was. He dragged her around the corner and into the dimly lit room, pushing her into the center.

Jed took one look and shot to his feet, "The hell…?"

Joaquin walked around Téa, shaking his head, "You always sneak around people's houses? Look into their windows?"

"I was looking for someone," Téa said, her eyes firmly on Jed.

"I don't like it," the young man growled. He walked close to her and grabbed her hair again, Téa shrinking from the pain, "Who is she, Chant? This the bitch who was fuckin' the Freak, ain't it? This the bitch we knocked down, no?"

"Jed…" Téa breathed out heavily.

"Let her go, man," Jed said in a deep, low voice.

"Not until you tell me everything."

"Let her go and I'll tell you what you wanna know. It isn't anything big."

"I don't know… she likes this I think." He yanked her hair and she yelped. He leaned in close, "You liked it rough with the Freak, didn't you? Maybe you'd like it rough with me."

Jed repeated, "Let her go!"

Joaquin pushed Téa toward Jed, and he caught her, his face apologetic. She stood up straight, rubbing her head where the hair had been pulled.

"Hello Jedediah," she said. "Long time no see."

He bent his head and shook it, embarrassed.

"Talk, asshole," Joaquin growled.

Jed took a breath and, still looking at Téa, explained the best he could.

"The Freak is my bio-father. I haven't known him for long. He's come for me and I don't know why. This is his wife, my stepmom. She's a good person."

He looked at her and Téa suddenly saw a horrible similarity in his eyes that Todd once had. She could be wrong, but she would swear she was looking at heroin-eyes. She reached for his face and caressed it. He looked away, back at Joaquin. "She's decent and you need to fuckin' apologize to her."

"I ain't apologizin' to shit. She owes US an apology for sneakin' around, for getting her Freak husband to nearly kill Nelson and all the rest of us."

Téa flew to him, "You attacked us! You hurt me! What did you expect?! You think everyone just lies down and lets you get away with murder?!"

Jed grabbed Téa, pulling her back from Joaquin. Lucy stepped in front of Joaquin though and slapped Téa hard. Téa gasped and a hand shot up to her reddened cheek. Before Jed could move to get back at the girl, Téa kept him in place with her body not wanting this to escalate. If such a thing could be prevented.

"Don't you talk to him like that," Lucy hissed. "You aren't anybody here. You're in our world now. And you…are an intruder."

Téa forced herself to calm and offered through a clenched jaw, "Look, I just came for Jed. He's all I want."

Kelly giggled, "Right. Like you're not going to walk out of here and call the cops on us."

"Are they here now? I'm here alone…if I was going to call them, they'd be raiding this place! Throwing all of you in juvie. Or jail."

Brent chimed in, "She's right. Maybe she's on the up and up."

The other kids all said, "Shut up, Brent."

"Shit…just sayin'."

Joaquin moved in closer to Téa, "Where's the Freak? How come he's not here?"

Téa stood tall, her chin out, "You hurt him. He's down for the count. It's only me."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Trust me, he isn't coming." She sighed, turning to Jed. "We were here to protect you. The police ARE looking for you, Jed. They want you to testify against Todd. They know what they want you to say and they'll make you say it their way. Your father…he only wanted to assure you that it was okay to tell the truth just as you know it. Whatever happens with that truth, happens. He was only trying to protect you."

Jed looked at the ground, wishing this night never happened. Feeling cornered as hell. He was afraid and that was a fact. Afraid of the cops, afraid of Todd, afraid…afraid…

"Did he kill Brandy?"

Téa's mouth dropped a little, not sure what to say. Jed explained, "I read an article. He's no good, Téa. Maybe I should just go to the cops. Let them put him in prison. For life maybe."

Joaquin didn't let Téa answer, "Oh like hell you are."

The other kids were wary, Téa saw in the distance, watching quietly. The sex-kids had wandered in, too. They were wrapped up with each other, hugging, one in front, the other in back. Dressed, now. They eyed the show. Curious. The girl was…so much like Brandy. A younger version. Téa pulled her gaze away from those haunted eyes.

Jed had stepped in front of Téa, protectively. "What do you want, Joaquin? You think I can't take you on? Any of you? Wanna try me?"

"Forget about him. What about givin' ME another shot?"

Todd's voice boomed across the dry floor and the kids slowly backed off. They all heard the stories about the night, and here he was. Crazy as ever.

Joaquin turned to the Freak looking a wee bit ragged around the edges, but no less dangerous than earlier. Dressed all in black, t-shirt and jeans, his hair hanging loose, he said, "Nice party."

He looked right at Téa and shook his head, "Seriously, woman. The fuck are you doing here? Taking my truck and comin' without me?"

Téa smiled a bitter, careful smile, her hand resting on Jed's shoulder. "Just picking up your son for you."

Jed hissed, "He isn't my father. My father wasn't a killer, my mom wasn't in love with a fuckin' animal."

"Well, welcome to the real world, Jedediah. Your mom WAS in love with an animal. She just didn't know it yet." Todd strolled towards Joaquin. He patted his chest hard, "So…you gonna take me on? I can see now…it'll be way… _fairer_."

Two steps closer and he smiled a grin that didn't reach his eyes. He said, "Marco."

Joaquin remembered the game they played when they realized the Freak had been blinded by the bat's hit. He shook his head slightly, unsure where the game was going now. He looked for back-up, finding nothing.

One step more and like the Doberman he was, he bared his teeth, and said, "Polo."

With that he reached back and slammed his fist so hard into Joaquin the kid went flying across the floor, evoking a cacophony of shouts and outrage. But nobody dared come close to Todd.

Except Jed. He grabbed Todd's shoulders and said, "Please…don't."

When Todd finally looked into Jed's eyes, Jed let go, stepping back. Satan was...very present.

Jed sighed, "Jesus."

"Not quite," Todd said. "So tell me, what did you think, you could bring on your _posse_ and get away with a full frontal assault? What did you think? You could have killed us."

"I didn't know it was you until it was too fuckin' late!"

Todd shot his hands towards Jed and grabbed him by the throat, Téa careening forwards, screaming at him to quit, hitting him on the back and shoulder. After only seconds, Todd did let go like Jed had suddenly gotten fiery hot. Todd was all contained rage, his fists tight now, his mind barely whole.

Téa was between the two of them when suddenly Todd reacted to something, his head jerking towards the sound. Joaquin was back, blood dripping down his face, with a gun cocked and pointed at Jed.

"You touch any of us again, and I'll kill him, I swear to God."

Téa and Jed froze, eyes large and disbelieving. Todd ran his hand through his hair, pushing the locks out of his face, the light of the factory revealing the ugly scar that ran along his cheek. Joaquin eyed the deep, scarred-over cut. He suddenly noticed the scars on his forearms as well. His gaze moved back to the Freak's icy, hazel-colored eyes.

"You really gonna use that thing?" Todd said. "You don't have the guts. You're a weasel."

"Try me," the kid growled, pointing the gun closer to Jed.

"Pull the trigger then."

Téa groaned angrily, "Todd…"

"Go ahead, _bitch_ , pull the trigger."

"Stop it!" Téa shouted.

Joaquin swallowed, unnerved by Todd's coolness.

"But he's your kid, ain't he? Don't you care?"

Todd smiled, "Look at me. Look real fucking close. Do I look like someone who _cares_?"

Jed grew tired of the stand-off. He'd been here before – he himself stood once with a gun pointed at Todd. Joaquin would never shoot. And if he did, Jedediah was the one who didn't care. He sighed and asked again, "Did you kill Brandy, Pops? Like the paper said?"

The kids had split, abandoning the fight. The truth was they didn't want to get caught, they didn't feel that much of an allegiance to each other. They all scattered to the four winds, other than a few curious observers. Self-preservation was the name of their game. The silence flowed all over.

Joaquin looked at the three of them like they were all insane. They were. He stood there with a gun and none of these three FREAKS thought much of it.

Looking at his kid, his mind broken as it had been since he was a kid, since Peter had stolen his soul, Todd said coolly, "Yeah, Jed, I hurt her and she died. Just like the paper said. Sorry, _son_. I know you liked her. I know you felt sorry that you didn't get a chance to fuck her. I know she wanted to fuck you."

Téa cringed, "My god, Todd…what the hell?!" Jed looked at Téa for help, for something. She then spat, "What do you think, Jedediah Chant? Do you really think he _killed_ her?"

"The hell is wrong with all of you?! I have a gun!"

Téa, Jed and Todd glanced at Joaquin as if he'd appeared out of thin air. Téa looked at him, "Put the gun down. You're not going to use it. You're not even making sense about _how_ you're using it." Téa pointed at Todd. "Why wouldn't you just shoot _him_? He's the obvious target. He's the bad guy! HE is!"

Todd blinked, "Nice support there, Delgado."

"What? You'd rather he shoot Jed?"

"Is that a trick question? 'cause I think the answer's obvious."

Joaquin's mouth dropped open.

Todd turned back to Jed, finding his demeanor interesting. There was a familiar disconnectedness. Ignoring the gun, he ambled to Jed. Took in the vision of him, head to foot. He grabbed the boy's chin so he could look into his eyes. His features registered a sudden realization.

"Are you kidding? Didn't you learn from my mistakes? You on smack now?!" Todd laughed. He laughed a little harder, throwing Joaquin into a confused horror.

Jedediah glanced around, eyes a little wild, trying to deny it. "No—"

"Oh that's just fuckin' beautiful. Like father like son…after all the shit you gave me. You're a goddamn hypocrite." Todd wiped his eyes, tears of laughter having formed there.

Jed said nothing before Todd swung to a still-shocked Joaquin and grabbed the gun by the barrel, yanking it right out of his hand. He flipped it and held it to Joaquin's head, hissing, "You coulda hurt yourself with this thing, you little shit."

The boy lost his nerve and eyed Todd who hissed, "Now, you're gonna leave us alone. You're gonna take your fucked-up friends and walk away. You hear me?"

The kid tore away, knowing bad things only come from types like these. Todd eyed Jed once again as he stuck the gun in his back waistband of his jeans.

"You gonna answer my question? You doing smack now?"

Jedediah looked helplessly at Téa and shrugged, "I'm in a dream. I'm in a mushroomed, meth and weed-laced, heroin dream. This cannot be happening. I am not related to him!"

Todd pinched the bridge of his nose, weakening suddenly, the pain in his head spiking again. Téa folded her arms, moving closer to Jed. Todd grumbled at her, "You walked out of our motel room, leaving me with the monsters. How could you do that?"

Téa shook her head at him, "Not now, Manning. Jed, can you come home with us? I meant what I said. The police are interested in you and it's not good. Let's all talk. Openly, honestly. Please?"

"You want me to go home with him? He's insane, Téa. He tried to choke me!"

"You're using heroin you fucking idiot!"

"I'll keep him away from you," Téa growled. "He won't hurt you. Not ever again."

Todd snarled, "Don't be so sure 'bout that."

"Shut up, Todd," Téa snapped back.

"Don't tell me to shut up, _you_ shut up."

"Ignore him."

It was in that moment that Jedediah felt strangely connected to something he never has. Part of something. Even if that thing was…familial _insanity_. Holy shit. He was part of a real family. He laughed. They'd become… a family… the three of them. Joaquin was huddled with some of the kids and they merely looked weirded out. Jedediah chuckled. He couldn't help it. The blunt had made this all…

… rather humorous.

* * *

The cold whipped up and Todd, Téa and Jed climbed into the truck. Todd had dumped the gun into a drainage pipe, knowing the thing would be dumped into the New River.

"How did you get here, Manning?" Téa asked as Todd drove away from the factory.

He pointed out a sedan they passed on the road. "It had the keys in it."

"You _stole_ a car?" Jedediah asked from the rear.

"You have no say in anything," Todd barked.

Téa smiled, "Isn't that nice? What a role model for your wayward son."

"What choice did you leave me, Delgado? You took my truck. When I was dying in the motel room."

"You were sleeping."

"I have a concussion! Don't you know my brain could have swelled and I could have gone into a permanent coma?"

"Honestly, Todd, I left an alarm. Plus you told me you were very angry with Jedediah. I thought it best I deal with him first. Alone."

"I wouldn't have hurt him ever and you know it."

"You told Joaquin to pull the trigger, _Pops_! He could have killed me!"

"You talking to me?! You could have killed me, Téa, _and_ the baby with that frontal assault stunt you and your buddies pulled. Three versus one. I think the trade-off is clear, don't you?"

Jedediah repeated softly, "Baby? What baby?"

There was silence in the car. Todd gripped the steering wheel and Téa sniffed.

"Well? What baby?!"

"Téa is pregnant."

"Who's the dad?"

Todd slammed on the brakes and when the truck stopped, he turned around, pointing his finger at Jed. "Not fucking funny."

Jedediah said in a low tone, "I don't think it's funny, I think it's fuckin' sad. I'm sorry Téa, I'm sorry for you."

She sighed, "I'm really tired, Jedediah. Can we just go get some rest?"

Jed shrugged and Todd turned back around, getting back on the road. The headache had returned with a vengeance. The crazy was tickling the inside of his skull. He needed sleep, he needed quiet. In truth, he was relieved to have Jed with him, Jed safe and sound. Relatively so. The cops were at bay for now. The cops…they'd not have their chance at Jed. Not now, at least.

Before another thought could occupy Todd, a pain shot through his head at a shocking, breath-taking level. He slid the car into neutral and moved the car to the side of the road. He slammed his hand to his forehead and whimpered, getting Téa to rush to him, "What? What is it?"

Voices faded and in seconds everything went black.

Téa screamed as Todd fell over and went into a massive seizure, his body shaking and his legs shooting outwards. Téa held him, crying, "Oh my god!" His body seized mercilessly against her and she could hardly hold him in her arms. Jedediah flew outside to get a better grip of him, to protect Téa from the violence.

"I got him, Jed, it's okay…oh god…I knew it…I knew it…"

The convulsions intensified again and Téa screamed shortly, Jed throwing himself against Todd to soften the blows. But the seizure slowed at last and Todd's body relaxed. Téa held him as he threw up, held him to the side to make sure he didn't breathe in the regurgitated liquid. When it was over, he was completely unconscious.

Trembling, Téa could hardly talk. Jed peeled away from Todd.

"What the hell?!"

"Your buddies, they must have really hit him…oh my god."

Téa didn't like what was happening now – he was barely breathing, the air passing ragged-sounding. "Jed, we have to go. He needs help. Get moving!"

Jedediah shoved Todd over and got into the driver's seat. Todd lay sweating against Téa who held him tightly. She trembled like mad. Jed threw the gear into drive and sped like hell towards the hospital. They flew from 30 to 40 to 60 miles an hour. When he looked in the mirror, the lights of the police were trailing behind.

"Shit! Cops!"

Téa and Jedediah looked at each other in resignation. At that moment, Todd started seizing again. Téa pulled hard against him to keep him from kicking Jed.

Jed stepped on the gas, speeding past darkened houses and quietly shifting stoplights. He stepped on the gas harder when Téa yelped, "Jed, he's not breathing…no! Baby, baby, NO! Not now! Don't you die on me NOW, you bastard!"

* * *

What they didn't know, what they couldn't know, was that the seizures had woken Todd up on the other side of sane.

He was back on the long walk, on a high edge of a dark cliff, next to a black, roaring river, with the Spirit skipping next to him. He stepped carefully, foot in front of foot, walking as he'd been walking for ages. It had been so long since he'd been in hell, since he'd been attempting to get out of hell, that the pace was quite familiar and comfortable. Half-living, half-alive, fully crazy. As if he'd never left.

But when he looked up, instead of the dark, frenzied sky of before, there was light, close enough to touch. He reached up and felt the heat. It was so good! Like pudding, he said aloud. Like the luscious escapism of heroin. He wanted to lick the sunlight, like he'd lick candy, cotton candy. He laughed and the voice that came from him was weightless, wondrous, innocent. Innocent! He was innocent again. He remembered the forgiveness.

Yes! He'd forgiven himself the damage, the wounds, the results. He'd forgiven himself and had embraced the boy. He'd allowed himself to love that boy he'd been. Once. He had gotten that much closer to escaping Hell.

The dancing, woodsy spirit smiled at him, "You made it, Little One. The way out. You finally left the black land of Grief, the fiery pits of hell, and have found the door to the Earthly End. You forgave. You survived. And here you are. The End at last."

He stopped walking. "What do you mean, the End?"

"Todd…it's all over. Your life, the agony, the pain, the hurt of trying to keep love in your corner…it's finally over. You're free! You're dead at last. Just as you've always wanted. Congratulations. Your heart has stopped. This time for good."

There were many words Todd had heard over the years that pained him, but these words, for the first time in his life, were the worst of all. There wasn't an ounce of relief. Not like before.

 _No, not like before at all._

 **To be continued…**


	30. Chapter 30

**On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 30**

Every detail of the hospital emergency room lit up like the Fourth of July. Every emotion blazed in color. Every possible way everyone in the room could move or react, every choice each person held in their hands, rolled around the room as if in print. Like a ticker tape.

And he saw it all from about five feet off the ground, his own half-covered body in front of him.

That's how Todd knew he was dead. Or at least he was gonna be.

Attendants called his name and ran their latex-covered hands all over him, checking for damage. They stuck something in his mouth so he wouldn't bite himself, shoving him on his side so he wouldn't choke. They searched for a vein through which to pump a boatload of meds for the seizures. X-rays and an MRI had to wait until his body stopped reacting to the apparent brain injury. His precious family, Téa and Jedediah, stood to the side, silent stoic witnesses to familiar medical intervention.

They were children, all of them. God, it was easy on this side of things.

"I know what I need to do," Todd said aloud to the half-world in which he had found himself, "Providing I wake up. Down there. Why didn't I see it before? Why'd I make it so hard?"

The spirit, in all her woodsy vine-like glory, brushed up against and through Todd's ethereal being and he smiled, tingling with the blissfulness of it.

 _You have an answer,_ she said, her voice musical and unreal. Magical light came from her. He reached to touch the essence and stars flowed over his hands, watery and delicious.

Dreamlike, he whispered, "Yeah, like there was ever any other way."

 _Will you be able to handle it, Little One?_

His focus switched at that. He kept watch on his beloved family, beneath him. He knew, clear as dirt, his only option. He had to protect them, all three of them, from the harder road. He understood absolutely that every action has a consequence. One small move leads to one thing, another move leads to another altogether. THIS…decision…led to the best situation for everybody. Even for people who weren't yet born. Especially for people who weren't yet born. Like the dusty little bun in the oven.

Police officers lingered outside the trauma room, just two of them, Fayetteville detectives assigned to follow-up on Todd Manning's activities. Their lives were a tangled mess, Todd knew. A sick mother, a wife cheating, a boss on his tail about planted evidence, family expenses and a bookie knocking on the door. The mention of Todd's name across the wires sent the men crashing into emergency, hoping for a little boost in their employment situation. He knew what would happen, knew his limit on earth and theirs. He could see and hear everything. He knew their rushed, hopeful presence in the hospital prevented them from getting in a whole lot of trouble across town. Because of Todd, these two officers had just lengthened their careers and lives. Omniscient? No. Not really.

What he didn't know was what only God knew: why. Why…for everything. That remained out of his reach.

This was cool though, in a strange alien sort of way. The future and the past melded together into a simple revolving endless tale of human survival, consumption, reinvention, and finally redemption. Simple. He took a breath as a thought suddenly whistled past him.

 _Bo Buchanan's coming, isn't he?_

 _Is there any choice? You're caught up in another incident. Don't worry. I'll never leave your side. Even if you can't see me, know I'm there. You'll come out even, made square, repented and paid. What you've always sought._

 _Yeah, ma, I got it. Okie dokie._

He reached downwards and wished he could touch his loved ones on the emergency room floor.

 _Bo Buchanan. He's kinda on my side. Area 51 alien stuff…you know?_

He looked at his family. If only he could hold them, talk to them from here. They would understand everything the way he did. Confused, conflicted pain burned inside of them, he could see. Todd had never made it easy on any one to love him. Only with him could he be dead on a table and his family show "mixed emotions." Nice.

 _No one to blame but myself, right?_

 _And the cruel sense of humor of the Lord._

At least he knew without doubt that Téa and the baby were fine. The bump in her belly would grow to be someone wonderful. Sure there would be situations, but the _bump_ …she was a tough one. The future for his other child, Jedediah, wasn't so bright. Ragged clothes, circles under his eyes, the pinned pupils he'd seen at the factory, the overall shiftiness in his step, the roiling ache in his belly... already impediments that would not be overcome easily. His rocky path was as evident as everything else in the room. Jedediah faced a long, harsh road to a coffin.

The moment Todd thought of his plan, Jedediah's road altered. The plan would save the kid. The road wasn't all light but it was not the dark that it would be without Todd's plan. He sighed heavily with knowledge, looking at his bare feet above ground, the weight of the universe on his shoulders. He knew that when he slammed back into his body, he'd forget everything.

 _Except the plan. And that it would save Jedediah._

Noise blasted into his head in bright colors and he cringed at the chaos in emergency. Code fucking blue.

 _You gotta be kidding me…there's nothing wrong with me._

 _We needed you to see._

Téa turned her head and placed her hand on Jedediah's shoulder. They looked hard into each other's eyes and she smiled, winked, assuring Jed that everything was going to be okay.

"He's immortal," she said, echoing Todd's words.

When he looked into the vastness of the afterlife beyond the dark borders of the emergency room, he saw his mother and Brandy, Victor Lord and Peter Manning, too – people he loved in thorny ways, people he hated – and they all smiled knowingly, in complete comprehension of all that lay in front of him.

Why was he here really? Why did things happen the way they did? Why did wrong sometimes taste so…good?

The answers were in God's hands alone.

 _Hey baby, what you want?_

Brandy called to him, and in an instant his skin and blood fired up, black passion still streaming through him. That's how he knew he was still connected to his body, his flesh. She was much more beautiful here than when she walked Sixteenth Street – clear-eyed, ivory skinned, her body healthy and filled-out. She smelled not of vanilla anymore, or of desperation to be anyone but herself, but like water from unreachable heights of mountains, from the depths of rivers before man came, water in its essential form. She smelled of happiness yes, but more importantly, she smelled of purity, a state of being neither he nor she ever knew while alive. He wished he could take that purity and keep just a little for himself.

His mother offered such profound warmth and safety and love that it took all he had to keep himself on track. She held her arms out to him and said, _Come to me, sweetheart, at last_.

Peter and Victor nodded towards him, a certain cold compassion emanating from them. Through them, Hell made an appearance and Todd's skin crawled.

He wondered which place he was truly bound for: heaven or hell? He thought of questioning the spirit. But didn't.

He didn't because he knew he would not go to any of those ghosts. Not now. No, for the first time in as long as he could remember, the possibility of death offered no soulful salve. None. He needed, wanted, desired, _demanded_ to return to earth, to that table in the emergency room. He faced the woodsy spirit once more, knowing he'd not see her for a long while. Not until his predetermined time. They'd all have one hell of a reunion.

The ghosts of his life disappeared into nothingness.

 _I'm out of hell then, huh? I made it to the top, survived that long walk, that edge I was going to fall over? I'm beyond it?_

She grinned, one tear rolling down the side of her perfect face.

 _It is done. Goodbye, my Angel._

As he hurtled into his life-scarred body, he heard the laughter of the spirit and felt her excitement. Their lives would turn out as well as an earthly life could, even if he'd not quite think it back on earth.

* * *

As the blip on the monitor jerked the flat line into a jagged one, showing a renewed and strong heartbeat, Todd came into rough consciousness, gasping for air and yanking himself into a sitting position. Everyone in the room jumped back, the doctor cursing sharply, "Sonofabitch!"

Todd looked around, his eyes wildly searching, his newly beating heart racing, his breath fast. He looked at the shocked doctor and said, "Doctors don't usually call me that, just family and cops."

He flopped back down against the hard gurney, looking like he'd just finished a marathon.

"Holy cow," the doctor uttered, stepping forward and shaking his head. Then he laughed awkwardly along with everyone else in the room, apologizing.

Téa sighed with complete and total relief, her hand tightly on Jed.

Jed felt as if he missed a bullet, only to find himself facing another one. His father.

Todd pushed back up on his elbows, shrugging, "I had a seizure didn't I?" He eyed the small crowd, looking for Téa.

"Pretty serious one, a few actually," the doctor said. "You have one hell of a bump on your head. You really need to lie down."

"I'm fine. Seriously, fine. I just have to talk to…uh… my wife." Not seeing her right away, he squinted and chewed on his lip, feeling an immediate sense of panic in the pit of this stomach. Had she left? Jedediah? Had he left, too?

"Sir, it's okay, you need to calm down," a nurse said, checking the intravenous feed on his hand, "His respiration and heart rate is through the roof."

Téa squeezed Jedediah's hand and gave him a threatening look, saying that if he moved or left, she'd have him for dinner. He rolled his eyes, grumbling and finally collapsing on a chair alongside the far wall.

" _Estoy aqui, amor_ ," her voice carried above and over and through the crowd, catching Todd's increasingly manic search for her. The sight of her brought a relief to his face and a much needed slow-down to his vitals. He huffed and lay back, grabbing her hand and holding it close to his face. She touched his mussed hair and got him to look directly at her, while the doctor and staff convened in conversation over the next step.

"Téa, I have to do something. I want you to understand."

"Shut up, Manning. Do you know what you put us through tonight? Do you even…know?"

"I'm gonna plea. I'm gonna take that offer from the Fed guy."

"Not now," she said, looking scared.

He put his hand on hers, holding her in place. He held her gaze. "Listen to me, I know what I'm doing, and I don't have a choice. Jedediah…he's in such…fucking… trouble. You said it. You're right. I can't let him testify for me in any way. It will kill him if he's responsible for sending me away."

Téa looked away from him, in Jed's direction, her eyes only. Then she returned to Todd, gazing into his hazel eyes, studying the deepened scar across his cheek, taking in every God-given line on his face. Long strands of gray hair fell across his forehead. Pure white. She noticed more. She'd never seen those before. She resisted the temptation to yank them out.

Her tone was clipped, hard. "Prison. You want to serve time. You want to serve _three to five_ years or _more_ for the murder of Phillip Manning."

"I have to, Téa. If I don't, he's gonna die. It's the only way. I'll confess, get the thing over with. Call Bo."

"Todd, he's a runaway, he's hurting, he was kidnapped and abused. He needs you _in_ his life though, not locked away."

"His testimony will put me away for a hell of a lot longer than three years or even five years."

"Todd—"

"Listen to me!" His voice dropped to a ragged whisper and he pulled Téa closer to him, "There's no proof Phillip was going to kill us. Self-defense isn't going to work, especially not with my record. Did ya' see my mug shot, Téa? Ya' think any jury is gonna buy I was protecting anyone? It's all about the fucking evidence!"

"You cannot do this," Téa hissed. "Don't you dare. There is plenty of room to fight it."

"Jed will die, Téa."

The doctor broke in, "We need to get you into an MRI. You're at serious risk—"

"I don't need an MRI! I need to get out of here! Now…cut me loose! Delgado, talk some sense into these guys!"

Téa stepped away from Todd's fumbling hands and fussing exclamations, and pointed her finger at the doctor, "I have power of attorney over him – I make medical decisions for him."

Todd relaxed at Téa's attorney-voice kicking out at the doctor. He nodded his head, "Listen to her, man, listen to her…"

"Strap him down if you have to, and get that MRI, that CT scan, get all the blood work you have available, get a goddamn colonoscopy if you have to, but I want a clean bill of health from him before he's permitted to leave this hospital. And don't forget a thorough psych work-up! The man…" She turned to his shock-filled face, "is insane!"

"What the…DELGADO!"

Before long, Todd was indeed strapped to the gurney and rolled away, his voice rough-edged and laced with fury and betrayal. Téa cringed at each curse until he couldn't quite be heard anymore. Her last sight of him was his furious expression as he twisted on the bed to look at her, to demand that she listen to him.

The sight made her afraid for him. It wasn't that long ago that madness had kept him locked away. The last she heard, the last anyone in the emergency room heard, was Jed's name, that he had to do it for Jedediah. She shook her head and sat next to the slumping teenager. For the first time all night, she took a hard look at him.

"Was he calling my name? He hasn't said a decent thing to me all night. And now…" His voice betrayed unfathomable exhaustion, untold sadness.

Téa searched his face, her tone tender and motherly. "Are you okay?"

The sound made him weak and he slouched deeper into the seat. He could hardly talk, he found. All he could manage was a shrug.

"Jed…" Téa wrapped her arms around him, "We're here for you. He loves you more than his own life. Do you know that?"

"Does it matter?"

"Love always matters."

"I want to go home, only I don't know where to go."

"Come with me. Let me take you to our hotel room. You sleep there. I'll make sure nobody hurts you. I'll take care of you."

Jed turned his head away, hard. Tearful relief washed over him. She took his backpack and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on," she said, feeling his sweaty palm. What was Todd thinking? How could he possibly believe prison was better than being here?

* * *

Jed had curled up and dropped off into sleep fast, not even taking time to wash. He'd seen the freshly-made bed and fell onto it right away, Téa hardly having time to shut and bolt the door. Téa raised the sheets, covering him up, boots and all.

 _He's in such fucking trouble._

Lying on the opposite bed, Téa watched him sleep. She called Tim. Rolled out the entire story and he said he'd be there by the late afternoon at best. She called Viki. With great hesitation, she stared at Bo's private cell phone number. What the hell was Todd thinking? She dialed the number, she had to.

Bo answered, saying her name right away. He must have her in his directory.

"I'm sorry, I've woken you."

"I wasn't sleeping. Nora's here, packing me a suitcase. I heard there was an incident with some runaways and I gotta bring Manning back. News travels fast and the Feds are hot again. The hell did he do now?"

"It's not what he's done – it's what he's going to do."

"Talk."

"He wants to make a deal over the death of Phillip Manning. He doesn't want Jedediah to testify at all."

The silence that echoed across the phone line was worse than any bark he could have made. Téa sighed, briefly closing her eyes. She leaned forward on the bed and held her head in her hand. The phone felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

"Why? The kid might actually help."

She could hardly speak. "He might hurt him, too."

"Is Manning still in the hospital?"

"Just till morning. The captain was considering whether to charge him – apparently the timing of an injured runaway at emergency was way too close to the same time that we brought Todd in."

"Did he hurt someone, Téa?"

"Bo…all that matters is this thing he wants to do. What do the Feds want? I mean, if I can't dissuade Todd from his…idea…how much time is he really facing?"

"You know…if he's 'fessing up. I think we can whittle it down."

"What are you saying?"

Bo's voice remained calm and quiet. "I think he can do five years, less for good behavior. It's do-able, sell-able to the Feds."

"Prison isn't do-able for him. He'll get himself killed. He'll have no protection inside. You can't be serious."

"If he's serious, then I am. I can make it as easy as possible. The Feds want something outta him. And they aren't going to let Jedediah go without getting Todd on the hook."

Bo's complicity frightened her. He would listen to Todd. This thing was going to happen. She bit her lip. And he would be on his own in Statesville. Chances were he'd never live to see his and Téa's baby be born or his children become adults. He wasn't famous enough for special protection, he wasn't a white supremacist for Aryan Nations or colored for the protection of other groups. Prison was a death sentence.

Why did he think confessing would save Jed's life?

She looked at the boy under the covers. His backpack was tossed to the side. She grabbed it up and searched it. She found extra clothes, snacks, a lighter, and a baggy containing foil-covered stuff. Carefully, she peeled back the foil and found marijuana joints. Probably had heroin in them. She shook her head. Todd had seen it on Jed at the factory. Jed hadn't really admitted it. He didn't have to. She had seen it, too.

She dug deeper and felt something cold, small, round. She pulled it out and it was Todd's wedding ring, hooked to a patched-together bracelet. The one he'd lost.

"My god…"

* * *

His voice was calm, the medical sedation talking. He was in the hospital bed, a long night of tests and drugs having worn him out. He stared at the doctor who shook his head, mystified. The tests showed nothing wrong with him. The mild concussion couldn't possibly have caused the kinds of seizures he had had. The MRI came back negative as to brain tumors or other damage.

There was a chance however that the blows to the head had awakened previous damage and that he now had epilepsy, a condition that doesn't always show up on an MRI or CT-scan. They'd have to watch him.

"I can watch myself, thank you very much," Todd murmured. "Can I have a phone?"

The doctor handed him the phone from off the nightstand and after directing him to dial 9 first, he walked out, leaving Todd alone in the sunlit room. With the phone tight to his chest, he breathed in the warmth of the room and felt the heat on his cheeks. With the door of the room closed, the noise of the hospital dulled. He studied the lines in the room, the morning's shadows. There were no ghosts in here.

He tapped on the buttons. Téa's cell phone rang several times and he huddled into the bed, holding the handset. The dust danced in the light and he wondered if Statesville had changed much. He wondered if the cells were still cold and damp and smelled of desperation.

Her voice brought an instant smile to his face. And in that instant, he decided if he was in prison he would not see her until he got out. He would not have visitors. He knew there were things he'd have to do to survive his time. He didn't want her to know about any of it because she would know by the look in his eyes.

"Explain Jedediah again, Todd."

"He's using heroin, Téa."

"I know. It's mixed with the marijuana. Tell me why you think he's better off with you in prison."

"I can't let him testify."

"He might help you!"

"He can't, Téa."

"How is that going to save him?!"

"My being put away…is a good thing. It won't be his fault. Nothing he says, nothing he doesn't say. He won't be terrorized by the cops or manipulated by the Feds. He'll be with you. He's going to be great…with you. Just you."

"You're crazy."

"Like you didn't know that?"

They were quiet and Todd closed his eyes, sleep moments away. He cuddled deeper into the sheets and pretended to be in bed with her. He could smell her, feel her warm skin. He remembered the mountains, the shack that belonged to Michelle's freakish mountain folk. Their night and morning had been blissful. He almost wanted to cry. The beginning of the end.

"I wish I could do it all over," he said dreamily. "I wish I stayed with you instead of trying to get back to Granite."

"Todd…"

"I would do anything for all of you. I don't have a choice. It's the right thing. I can't hide behind my kid."

"You're not…"

"Téa, he was drugged. Like you said, his memory is too easily played with. "

"That's going to be huge in discrediting him if he says anything against you! They'll have nothing else."

"And it'll be used to discredit anything GOOD that he says. There is no testimony he can give that won't be used to incarcerate me. I can't let him testify."

"Todd, you're not making sense, please!"

"Remember Money-Hungry? We had fun back then. It was fun getting to know you. I loved it. I didn't act like it, but I loved it."

She knew there was nothing to say. She knew the sound of his voice when he had made up his mind. She would have to fight this some other way, but she wasn't sure how. Just as she was about to speak, she heard rustling in the bed and an ominous authoritative voice. Bo Buchanan had just walked into the hospital room and he wasn't alone.

"Téa, I have to go, I've got some people here." He was talking as he put away the phone, saying, "I wanna plea. You leave Jedediah alone. I'm all yours."

 **To be continued…**


	31. Chapter 31

_**Note from Author: Thanks all for reading! Todd's adventures, though, in my world, never really end.**_

 **On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 3**

 **Chapter 31**

The reality of the situation sunk in deeply and left Téa exhausted. Prison was no joke and her husband was well aware of the risks involved. He knew the system and how fast it would work once he agreed to a deal.

She panicked at the thought, was about to call in the cavalry, about to pull Jedediah out of bed so she could run to the local courthouse to get Todd declared incompetent so he couldn't cop a plea. She could put a halt to the deal. Emergency proceedings were a common thing and getting a local lawyer on board would be a cinch, especially with her large pocketbook. She'd probably be able to grab an attorney to do the job right there in the courthouse hallway. Her instinct was to do anything to save Todd from himself, except she stopped in her tracks.

This was a dance that would never end. She had to break it off, stop the cycle that would continue infinitum. She had Jedediah now, a baby on the way.

The cell phone dropped to the shag carpet, and she rested back against the pillows on the bed. Morning had long crept into the room beneath the ratty curtains, light overtaking shadows, revealing cobwebs. Breathing slowly, taking deliberate, lengthy breaths, a strange peacefulness settled over Téa.

She turned and watched the Jed sleep, wondering if he dreamed of joy or fear or loneliness. She understood Todd's desperation to protect him. The child had so little. Not even his precious Michelle had helped him. She failed by failing to keep him safe in the mountains. Todd must have been so disappointed to learn Michelle had let him go.

The baby in her womb fluttered and she gasped, petting her belly, wondering who this little person would turn out to be. A doctor? A lawyer? A reporter?

 _My child._

She smiled and laughed quietly, waiting for another flutter. She caressed Todd's wedding ring, the one she'd picked out of Jed's backpack. The bracelet was patched together. She couldn't imagine what Jed must have thought when he found them. He must have been afraid, deeply hurt. It was understandable why he'd hidden out. She eyed the near-adult in the bed. He slept hard, lying on his side, curled slightly. He snored lightly, a tender rhythm to the breaths. He looked like Todd but there was far too much Michelle in his bone structure. At times the differences between the two men disappeared, fading in a side view of Jed, in a brush of his hand through his hair, or in his sheer stubborn will. When he chose poorly, that was when he seemed the most like Todd. She hoped Michelle's goodness would always be the buffer to truly being his father's son. She hoped SHE would be a buffer.

Jed was hers now.

Téa pushed back into the pillows. She would sleep, she would rub her belly and comfort the baby that way, comfort her own heart. She had to leave Todd to his own devices.

She would not run to save him. It wasn't her job anymore.

* * *

A freshly-washed Jedediah spoke little on the way to the hospital. They'd eaten in near-silence at the local café. Téa said nothing about what they would find when they got to Todd's room. She didn't even know if he'd still be there. Her cell phone had been eerily quiet. Before they got out of the truck with its broken windows, greenish glass still brightening the carpets, she reached across and touched Jed's hand. He jerked in surprise and looked at her.

"Everything will be fine," she said.

He nodded and pulled his hand into himself, staring out at the busy parking lot. "Whatever happens, happens, right?" He smiled slightly, crookedly, "And thanks. For being here."

She mussed his hair and stepped outside into the summer sun, slamming the truck door. She closed her eyes, tired still, and felt the heat on her cheeks. Todd would have precious little of such heat in prison. Her acceptance of everything surprised her. Maybe she'd changed over the past two years. Maybe she finally accepted him for who he was. The two marched solemnly towards his room.

Jed was pretty sure he was about to testify, worrying, "What if I say something wrong?"

"There's nothing you can say that would be wrong."

"But—"

"But nothing."

She didn't tell him because he'd fight coming here, he'd get angry. She couldn't have him in that space right now.

The hospital boasted clean floors, pretty nurses, and plenty of patients. Jed looked at all of them, thinking of his friends, his so-called friends, wondering what the hell they'd been thinking attacking Téa and Todd that way. He'd been thinking a good mugging, not an all-out assault. Idiots. He was sure to get a good talking-to once this was all over. Funny, how Téa hadn't mentioned anything. She just let him be. In fact, she was mighty cool right now. Too cool.

He sighed at seeing cops. Fought an instinct to run, an instinct to duck out of the way. The fact was he had no idea what was happening to him, where he was going to be sleeping tonight. Maybe he'd be put in Juvie. He looked at Tea, at the way she walked confidently, thoughtfully down the hall. Yeah, he definitely hadn't ever seen her so calm about his bio-father.

The police officer at Todd's door nodded towards Téa and she strolled into the room, right to his side. They looked at each other without saying anything. Téa ran her hands over something.

When Jed saw what it was, his heart jumped into his throat. Handcuffs clipped Todd's right wrist to the bed's railing. Jed was confused, pulling at Téa's elbow.

"What's going on?"

Todd shrugged a little, smiled at Téa, directing his gaze immediately to Jed. He licked his lips and pushed himself up a little on the bed, jangling the handcuffs. "Well…" He paused, looking back at Téa, as if he'd like her to tell the whole story. He closed his eyes again, saying softly, "I'm a little…sedated, sorry. They didn't like my _fussing_ too much."

"Go on, what's the verdict?" Téa crossed her arms, a kind of armor, preparing for the worst.

Todd shrugged, "Five in Statesville, eligible for parole in three."

Téa turned her head away from both Jed and Todd, walking to the window. She stood there in silence.

Jedediah didn't understand, demanding, "What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to testify," Todd explained. "You're free."

"You're going to prison? For the murder of Phillip?"

"I'm going to prison for a whole lotta things and I'm really okay with it. So yeah, I made a good deal I think. Three years is nothing. You still won't be able to get into a club…legally…when I get out."

Jedediah stared at his father, shaking his head. This was good? "I don't understand. What did you do?"

"There's nothing to understand, kiddo. Want lunch?"

"What the hell's wrong with you! Téa! You're his lawyer!"

Téa turned at that and reached for the boy, "There wasn't anything I could do to stop him. It was his decision. He has the right to make his own choices. We all do." She turned to Todd who was watching her carefully, lying back, resting easy. "He did it for us," she said, touching her stomach. "He knows the system – he's going to be fine."

"All that matters," Todd interjected, "is you, Jed."

"Yes, all that matters is that you can start a new life in Llanview. You're going to be everything you ever dreamed of being. We're both going to make sure of that. All that matters is that you never have to hear the name Phillip Manning again. You don't have to worry about the police anymore. Or what you're going to say. You can't hurt Todd with anything. And they, the police, can't hurt you."

Todd smiled, somewhat sadly, at Téa, at having said it exactly as he meant it. "There's nothing to be worried about. Look, there were problems with the evidence. They had more than I thought. This was the best thing to do."

"Pops!"

"Hey, I've been there before. It's a cakewalk. Besides...," Todd laughed a little, "You wanted me dead…this is a just a little better. Not quite as permanent."

The three of them stood in the light-filled room, the quiet seeming to be another member of the family. Strong, secure, confident.

"I could have said stuff," Jedediah said. "I would have said enough to help you. I would have lied for you."

"No, I'd never let you do that. Bo and the feds presented everything they had and it was questionable even with your best story, even if you hadn't been drugged up by Phillip. Not to mention so many other things that have gone wrong this past year. I made mistakes and I need to stand up to them. I have to do right by Brandy, by all of you."

"You hurt her, didn't you?"

"Yeah, Jed, in a lot of ways…and she ended up dead and she didn't have to. I gotta own up to it. And this is the best way…for me, for everybody. I wouldn't do it if I didn't believe in it." He grinned and cocked his head, "Besides, I have a mean right hook. I can take care of myself."

Jedediah didn't know what to think. Summer, his beautiful Summer, entered into his mind for no reason at all. The drugs he'd been using danced in his head, the stealing he'd been doing. How was _he_ going to do right by these people? After all, Todd wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him.

"I'm sorry, Pops."

"For what? For trying to protect yourself?"

"For fucking up. How am I supposed to make up to you guys?"

"By doing what I say," Téa said. "By coming home with me, and going to school, and living a grand life." Pain played on his features and he stared at the holes in the ceiling panels above. Téa came close to him, and she touched his arm, her hand traveling up to his soft hair. "You didn't really confirm or deny last night, but we are well aware you're using heroin. This is a big problem, baby."

He turned, embarrassed. Todd had been so snappy about it at the factory, he hadn't really thought Téa had understood their exchange. He wanted to deny it now. He started to. "No…I don't know what you're…"

Todd shook his head, "Stop… I saw it on you, all over you. I like to think the least you can do with me, with us, is not lie. I'm going to prison to help you. To relieve you of more hurt. Please don't lie, Jed."

"What makes you think I am?"

Todd said nothing, looking at him.

Jed gave up the fight. He deflated and sighed, guilty weight too much to bear. "There must be something wrong with me to have used when I saw what happened to you." Jed's voice cracked.

"Yeah… but on the other hand, why wouldn't you? It was good for me, I told you enough times how… _fucking_ …good it was. Why wouldn't you want that same relief? Huh? Why the hell not? There's nothing wrong with you, not a thing."

Jed put his hands to his face, beginning to cry, and Téa held him tightly. "It's okay, we're going to help you. You're safe."

Safety was a strange notion to all of them. They hadn't felt safe in forever. Even Todd felt somewhat…safe. He knew what the next three years would bring. Or five. Statesville wouldn't be a cakewalk as he'd said, he knew that much. There was going be a lot of danger, but it was danger he understood. Not like the danger he'd been dealing with since Georgie's death, the danger a child feels when he's being abused to a horrific level. That is not something within the realms of "understanding." What he did know was that he was safe now from Peter. He wasn't in his head so much. Todd no longer felt the heat of hell. Brandy was safe, too. Nobody could ever hurt them like that again. He could fight, he could think, he could use the system to help him. He could use people inside – he knew them, he'd work everything in his power to survive.

Above all, he had love in his life. Real love. He had his family.

* * *

When a handcuffed Todd walked into the Fayetteville setting sun with Bo Buchanan at his side and local cops at his elbows to lead him to the van that would take him home, there were people there to meet him. Viki, Starr, and Sam. Tim was there, too. They had a few minutes with him and they hugged him.

He squatted down and held his beautiful 9-year-old Starr and she whispered in his ear how much she loved him, that she was going to visit him every day. He laughed at the awkwardness of the situation, the gravity of it. She had no idea what was happening to him. He breathed in her scent, closing his eyes to memorize her, a hope to carry her with him, to keep inside of him how she felt in his arms, her softness, the sound of her. Fact was she wouldn't come visit. She would look different the next time he saw her. It was painful to let her go.

Sam hugged him hard, tears in his eyes. He and Viki were going to take Jed home.

"Take care of my son until Téa gets there, okay?"

"Sure, pal, sure." Then when he let go, he said a deeply sorrowful, "I'm sorry for everything, for not being there when you needed me."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Things are good. Real good. Keep fighting, Coach."

Tim called him kiddo, Viki called him sweetheart, Sam called him Boomer. Names, so many names he'd been given through the years. Some other names not so good: bastard, rapist, killer, crazy.

His name, all the names, were about to disappear.

There were only numbers in Statesville. The people he loved, the people who loved him, waved and cried a little, and smiled at him, and offered encouragement. He'd made the right decision. He was sure of it. It was the one thing he remembered from those seizures. He woke up with a plan. He knew it would save lives, no matter the cost to him. What's one life for the sake of the many?

Jedediah hugged him, "Thank you."

"It ain't nothin'," he joked, drinking in the sight of his son. Jed was going to overcome those demons, Todd had no doubts. He added, "I'm sorry, Jed, for this past year. I wish I could have the guy you dreamed about. I love you. Know that."

Jed responded, "It ain't nothin'."

When he climbed into the van, Bo and Téa got in beside him, out of the norm. A permitted bending of rules. Bo said they'd be his company for the long ride home. Cuffed him to the railing. The doors closed. They would pass the New River on the way home.

"Bo, can you stop – can you let me see the river?"

Bo shrugged, why not? Asked if he planned to jump.

Todd chuckled, "I might have, a long time ago. I just want to see the water."

The van parked to the side and the cops let Todd out, Bo and Téa watching him. She somehow knew he didn't want company. This was his goodbye, to old ghosts, to a part of himself. Todd promised he'd not try anything and Bo believed him so he let him out of the handcuffs.

The water roared beneath and Todd remembered the crazy, the profound guilt over Michelle's death, the boundless ache in his heart. He remembered the physical pain and the nightmarish memories. His eyes watered as the sun began its fast descent. The sight was beautiful, precious, leaving him breathless. The rocks, the colors, the water's edge, the strength of the current, the horizon. Death and life seemed to blend into one, here. He watched the sun go down, but right before it sank into the dark, Téa came to him.

"I love you," she said.

"I know…" He turned to her and smiled, focusing on her eyes, her mouth, her pretty face. "I really know, Téa. I feel it. I've been feeling it for a while now. I can't even imagine now…not feeling that. I love you, too. You are my life."

"I know." She smiled.

He whispered, "I wish there was somewhere we could go. I hate thinking that…for the next five years, all I'll have to remember is that time in the truck…" He laughed a little. Then didn't.

"Not five years," she corrected, "Just the three."

"Right…sure."

They kissed, the sound of the river rushing beneath.

It was over. Todd Manning was wide awake, as awake as he'd been in so very long.

 **THE END**

 **Epilogue by Téa Delgado Manning**

 _Lucía Nicole Manning was born on a spring night at two in the morning. Leave it to her to wake everyone up, to disrupt the night with her screams. Lucia means "light" in Spanish and she is the light of my life. Of all our lives. She has dark hair like mine, hazel-colored eyes like Todd's, and the spirit of an angel who knows no pain._

 _Jedediah is a pilot now, working for RJ Gannon. Sometimes I worry, but Jed couldn't be happier, flying free, literally and figuratively. Raising him to adulthood hasn't been easy. He challenged the system all the way through college. Graduated Llanview University_ summa cum laude _, of course. I suggested law school. He laughed. Said he'd rather fight the system than be the system. "Sorry," he said, "but lawyers are the bane of the system!" He shed drug use easily here at home. He never touched heroin again, choosing the cliché "high on life" as his only vice. I am sure he uses marijuana every so often, but no drug interferes with his trajectory. He is an amazing young man._

 _Starr is growing up beautifully, doing well in school. She'll be a challenge to Blair, to all of us. Jedediah is a fine big brother to her. He often takes her under his wing, literally. Lifting the young teenager into the plane and off they go into the blue sky. Her smile and mischievousness…lift us all._

 _Everyone is thriving – the Vega family, Sam, Kevin and Cassie. Viki has a new love, Clint. He returned to her and they are a joy to be around. Blair also has a new love, Sam. They hit it off one night and have not been separated since._

 _I'm a practicing attorney in Llanview, focusing on criminal defense with a comfortable side practice of wills and trusts. Something nice, easy, fun. I love it, I love the independence. I have grown to love Llanview._

 _I bought property on a Llanview hilltop and built a house with a wrap-around porch, a kitchen for a chef, bedrooms that wait to be filled with grandchildren. It is a castle for Lucía, our beautiful, six-year-old Lucía._

 _I built that house, I birthed my child, and I raised Jedediah and Lucía, alone._

 _Todd served all five years of his prison term. And he didn't allow visitors during that time. That decision was not what I expected, but I did not object. At least not... too much. He had to determine his own life. He fought hard for control because so much had been taken from him at so early an age._

 _I gave it to him, as much as I could._

 _On that summer morning after arriving in Llanview, Todd walked into Statesville and cut us all off other than through letters. We made sure to keep them going. We knew he had his reasons for it, but that didn't make it any easier. I shed so many tears over it. I begged him to let me see him. Just once._

" _Let me touch you to know you're still alive," I wrote. He refused._

 _You probably wonder how such isolation could have helped so many? In particular…Jedediah. Todd's absence, his letters, made Jedediah more protective of me, Lucía and Starr. He was the man of the house. It motivated him to change, to get control of his future. This truth was the only thing that kept me going. When I saw Jedediah becoming a man, I knew that Todd had made the right decision. In everything. I stopped asking to see him._

 _The road to getting parole had been rough. Three times he applied and three times he was denied because of who he had to become in prison in order to survive it. He narrowly escaped serving more time thanks to good lawyering, good luck, and witnesses who refused to testify. Bo Buchanan had tried to protect him but in the end Todd could only protect himself the best way he knew._

 _I still don't know everything. I don't ask that much. I am all about the present._

" _If a person wants to survive a pit of snakes, become the biggest, baddest snake of 'em all. Just kidding," he wrote._

 _I knew he wasn't._

 _The day he walked out of Statesville, I had been there. I waited by my car, waited two hours to see him step outside. I bit my lip in pain at the sight, not unlike seeing him in Brandy's apartment only this was a different change. His hair had grown long, striped with the white of premature age. He walked with a slight limp, a permanent result of a still-undisclosed battle inside those walls. He had new tattoos that I could see even from so many yards away. He wore borrowed clothes, jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Underneath the clothes, on a body I would see and touch later, were new scars, remnants of other battles. He had a sad plastic bag of the only belongings that mattered over the long five years: letters and pictures we sent him, and a book of philosophy, the same that he'd picked up in the Granite halfway house._

 _Up close I could see fine lines on his face, a hardness there that will never leave him. I caressed him, as if trying to remove dirt from his skin. I could feel his cheekbones and jaw. He had not a layer of fat on him, the end result of years of being awake, of constantly watching his surroundings. Of fighting for his life. It had been "only" five years and yet he'd aged ten._

 _He let me touch him. He was physically stronger than when he went in. When he held me, when he pressed me to his hard body, I could barely breathe. I cried when I saw him – he was supposed to be freer when he came home not weighed down with more…nightmares._

" _I am freer," he said, his voice like syrup, like the sweetest, most decadent dessert on the plate, "I'm never going back there again. I'm home. Take me home."_

 _I looked into those eyes, those beautiful hazel-colored eyes that his children all have, and he smiled gently, saying, how's my Lucía? How is our girl? Where is Jedediah today? Paris? London? Borneo? The wilds of South America?_

" _I don't know where Jed is today, where he's taken his plane, where RJ has sent him. I do know where our angel is, Lucia is with your sister today at Llanfair," I said. "But where are we?"_

" _We're right here, right now. We're going to get into that black car of yours and go home. To that house you built. That house for us."_

 _There is a creek behind our home and sometimes I see him sitting at the edge with his feet in the water. It is nothing like a river, not wild or dangerous. It is soft and clean and easy on the soul. He hums to himself bluesy-type tunes and looks upwards into the boundless sky. He thinks maybe of the Red Baron and must laugh at the irony that his child is indeed flying the skies, powerful and strong. He smiles when he sees me, pulls me down on the grass and kisses me. He works at being delicate with his touch. When he first came home, his hunger was overpowering and he was much too rough. Many bruises had to be soothed._

 _The first time we made love after he came home was on the foyer of the hilltop house. We drove home from Statesville and he walked through the front door and kicked it shut as he kissed me hard and touched me everywhere his hands could go. He pushed me to the floor, not an ounce of patience to get to our bedroom. I was equally as wanting, my hands reaching everywhere on him._

 _Our clothes were off quickly and I smelled prison soap. He was inside of me and we could hardly breathe at the quickness of it all. He was merciless, mad with need, the strength of his lovemaking frightened me, but I understood. I put my hands on the wall at my head to stop my body from moving away, to prevent my crashing into the wall. The hardwood floor hurt and I imagined that he'd push me through the floor itself. His grunts were full of anger and desire and relief. Each thrust was for the nights he'd missed, for the days and hours. When he was finished, he wasn't. He carried me up the stairs and threw me on the bed and went at me again. We didn't laugh or talk – there was only pure desire and sex and an inconceivable idea that we could make up for lost time._

 _When time is lost…it is lost forever._

 _He said nothing except, "I love you, I love you…" He groaned more than a few times, "Fuck me again." Not romantic, but it was real. It was him. He was home. I had cried those first times. I thought he would, too, but he didn't. Tears don't come to him like before. He's no longer raw and exposed._

 _We eventually quieted in our passion. He became knowledgeable of the idea that we had time. That he could slow down, that he would have me again in the morning or the next day. That he could sleep and I would not leave. We had time. I too learned that he would not leave. I too had to learn that._

 _I do not ask what happened inside the prison walls. He doesn't talk about it. Sometimes I have a clue from clients. One time a parolee commented on my name, saying he knew a "Manning" in prison. He said, "Meanest motherfucker in there. Look at him wrong and you end up chow at the next meal."_

" _He'd kill you?"_

" _Worse, others would make you WISH he'd just kill you."_

 _I had choked on my coffee._

 _The man said, "You know someone like that? He a cousin or something?"_

" _No," I said, "I don't know anyone like that."_

" _Too bad, I was hoping you were that kind of lawyer."_

 _Another client told me another story about a fiction he created to protect someone. The client said he did it for him. It's a hard tale to write about here, right now. One I prefer not to say, right here, right now. There is too much in it. Too much darkness. The client said he saved his life. I cannot help but think…_

 _So many you saved… at what cost?_

 _Two months after Todd returned I learned I was pregnant again. A boy. He's going to be summer baby. Todd works hard at the newspaper. He loves his paper, loves the days and the nights. He seems happy. Seeing him laugh warms me like nothing else. He laughs with his whole self. He smiles and means it. He covers up the darkness, keeps it locked away. I don't ask for the key. The only time I am reminded of it is when I feel his hands on me. They are hard, roughened. I kiss them thinking I can kiss the coarseness away._

 _He sees Tim still, every so often. They're good friends. Tim has only said one thing to me about Todd when I turned to him once, worried that Todd wouldn't talk about what happened inside. I was afraid of more demons, that they would lead him to heroin or that maybe his bad deeds would come to haunt us in other ways._

" _He's a survivor, Téa. Go live your life with him and don't ever look back." As I walked out of his office, Tim added, "Some doors need to stay closed."_

" _But will they?"_

 _Tim didn't answer, eyes dropping. I didn't push for a response._

 _I am… all… about… the present._

 _We have a brilliant life. We are surrounded by love, family, and the blessed reality of security, comfort, and safety. We don't look back, only ahead. And up there, up in the front of the line, is a sunny day, a bright blue sky, and the clean air of redemption and forgiveness._

 _We have long left the edge and walk on sweet, solid earth, hand in hand._


End file.
